Demon In the Design
by antilogicgirl
Summary: Prank wars never end well. Design, Deception, Denial and Decision take Roy Mustang to an unexpected Destination as he plays with Ed's mind.
1. I: Design

**A/N:** I AM working on my other stories. But they're coming slowly, so here's another shorty for you. No pun intended, as this is my first foray into FMA. Hope you like it, in spite of what I'm doing to Roy Mustang, whom I adore. Anyhow, here is the warning list for the chapter. Short, yes.

**Warnings:**

**FL--**Foul Language

**Psy--**Psychological

**Title:** Demon In the Design (or… A Good Idea At the Time)

**Series:** Full Metal Alchemist

**Pair:** Roy/Ed

**Begun:** November 3, 2008

**Complete: **

**Summary:** Prank wars never end well. Design, Deception, Denial and Decision take Roy Mustang to an unexpected Destination.

**I:** Design

Kain Fuery blinked rapidly. What in the world could have possibly shaken the building so much that he ended up on the floor? And for that matter, where were his glasses? The dark-haired man squinted a little as he pushed himself up onto one elbow. After a moment, he saw a blur that looked like it might be his precious eyesight, and extended a hand to take the wire-rimmed glasses from the floor. Just as he grasped the left lens, another loud bang came from the area of the door. Jamming his glasses back onto his face, Fuery was just in time to see a sopping-wet Edward Elric, his hand flat against the door he'd just slammed open.

Golden eyes were narrowed, but that did nothing to lessen the heat of anger that burned there. Fuery scrambled up from the floor, trying to get out of the way as soon as humanly possible. Edward walked jerkily forward, his movements losing a large amount of grace due to just how angry he was. No one moved, or even breathed as he stalked across the room. He glared at the polished wood of the General's door as though he could make it burst into flames with his violence of his anger. In his wake, he left a trail of wet footprints and drippings that smelled…Fuery gave a quiet, experimental sniff after Edward passed. His eyes widened and turned quickly to where he knew the First Lieutenant stood. She sighed, and seemed to be debating whether it was worth it to get involved.

One long moment later, Edward had slipped soundlessly into the General's office, and Hawkeye seated herself against the outer wall of the building, on the front side. Apparently she had decided that it would be the safest place, and perhaps she was correct. Fuery moved over to where she sat, pulling up a chair and waiting for the storm to blow over. Breda, Havoc and Falman did the same. This was not turning out to be a very good day.

* * *

Edward James Elric was beside himself. There were no words to express how angry he was at the moment. That was why, as he entered the office of the object of said anger, he remained absolutely silent. In the hush of the room, he was sure that his rage enhanced his senses. He could see the cord for the telephone leading around the back of the large leather desk chair, which was turned away from the door. After a few seconds of quiet, he heard low murmuring from the man seated in that chair as he spoke to someone on the other end of the line. The conversation continued for close to five minutes, during which Ed allowed his anger to simmer.

He reflected on his day, which had been absolutely wonderful until he had come into the office. The very first day he'd actually worn that _damned_ blue uniform, something like _this_ had to happen.

_Ed breathed deeply. It was a rather cool autumn day, and he had chosen to take the long way to Headquarters. The air was crisp, and he'd enjoyed the simple pleasure of walking through the little park. Mothers were out with children, watching as they made neat little piles of leaves before destroying them with a single flop. Sights like that always brought back memories. Now, with things mostly back to the way they should be, those recollections were not completely sad. Ed even found himself smiling a little as he walked, immersed in thoughts of himself as a small child, along with his brother and doing precisely the same thing in their front yard._

_Only a few blocks from Headquarters, Ed came across a boy who looked to be about five years old, playing in a sandbox with his younger sister. Upon seeing Ed, the boy stood up in a rigid military stance, and gave a very passable salute. For a moment, he blinked, forgetting what he now wore. Awkwardly, he returned the gesture, and watched the boy grin like a madman and then squeal with glee. Passing the little playground, he looked down at himself. He inwardly cursed his brother for doing laundry. Not that it was his favorite chore and preferred doing it himself…but Alphonse was absolutely _obsessive _about clean clothes now that he could wear them again. _

_And so, Ed had been rather annoyed when the expertly tailored blue uniform was shoved into his hands. "It's clean," Al had said, "and I even took the trouble to press it for you." Edward ran a hand over the cuff of his left sleeve, smiling in spite of himself. Al had done an exemplary bit of work ironing. Just the right amount of starch in the cuffs, collar and slacks, and not a wrinkle to be seen. It was little things like domestic chores that had always given Al the most pleasure. He enjoyed cooking, but now he gained the benefit of being able to taste what he made. And when he'd looked at his brother's face when he handed him the perfectly pressed and folded uniform, Edward's ire simply melted. He never could stay angry at Al. Not when he saw how happy doing things for others made the younger man._

Which brought him back to the reason he was absolutely livid. A pale hand reached out to the right, replacing the large telephone receiver in its cradle. "Why," came the smooth, slow drawling voice from behind the chair back, "I do believe you are getting my carpet wet, Fullmetal." The chair swiveled slowly around, and finally Edward was able to see that face. That smirking, sneaky, devious face. One slender eyebrow rose, and Roy Mustang's nose wrinkled. "Did you decide to go swimming in the men's room?"

Eyes narrowing to thin slits, Ed knew he was being baited. If he flew off the handle now, then Mustang would win. Instead, he decided to play it cool. For once, he would beat this man at his own game. Smoothing out the crease between his eyebrows took some force, and Ed felt close to exhausted after lowering his shoulders. He even mustered a "No, sir," when he addressed his commanding officer to say, "I was merely…using the facilities when the toilet exploded." He had managed to put up a wall to keep from being sliced to ribbons by shards of porcelain, but had not been so lucky as to remain dry. "Since all requests for maintenance must go through you, I thought it would be wise to inform you immediately."

* * *

This was not what he had expected. Ed was far too cool, far too calm about the whole thing. When he had dropped that chunk of dry ice into the toilet in Edward Elric's office, he had imagined that his subordinate officer would raise his voice, perhaps attempt physical violence, and finally end with the impotent slamming of doors. He had not thought that he would wait calmly while Roy continued the conversation with Marla, his date for the evening. It was completely unanticipated that the younger alchemist would be able to curb his temper when he was absolutely soaked with toilet water and smelling of disinfectant. Nevertheless, Roy was rather good at reading people, and beneath that calm exterior, he knew that Edward Elric was writhing in fury.

"Well." He said softly, taking up a pen to write out the maintenance request, "That is…rather serious. You may use the restroom here to freshen up as much as may be." Roy watched amusedly as Ed stalked into his personal bathroom. That was the only godsend to being a General. The paperwork piled up so that the hours in the office were longer, but at least he could shower after being at Headquarters for sixteen hours. The younger man did not close the door. No, he seemed far too angry for that. Roy returned to his papers until he heard the shower. He glanced over at the open door, and saw the blue uniform draped over the shower door.

Then he watched a dark, metallic hand reach up over the frosted glass, pulling the pants into the small stall. Moments later, he saw the jacket, shirt, and under shirt disappear into the shower as well. Apparently, Edward was washing out the toilet water. Losing interest in the activities of the young man in his shower, Roy went back to reviewing a report from Havoc. Vaguely, he heard the shower stop, Edward moving around, and finally, footsteps approaching his desk.

He looked up just in time to see Ed's hands slap together. Water shed from the uniform the blonde man wore, flowing through the air in trails until it formed a roughly globular shape between himself and Roy. All told, there was probably close to a gallon of water that had been pent up in the blue wool, which was now rumpled, but appeared to be completely dry. "General Mustang," Ed began, forcing Roy to tear his eyes from the strangely mesmerizing mass of floating water, "Let me make this as monosyllabic as possible: _One more prank, and you're a dead man_…" Edward leaned forward, causing the water orb to move with him, and he smiled, adding, "…Sir." With that, he turned on his heel and strode from the room.

Roy had the presence of mind to shove himself back from the desk as the ball of water fell, splashing all over the papers he had been working on. He did not get wet, but half of his day would be spent re-filing and re-writing all of those forms. That meant he would have to call Marla and cancel their date. The door closed behind Edward with a soft click, and Roy stared at the dark wood. After a moment, it opened again. Riza put her head and shoulders in, her brown eyes scanning the room. When they landed on the mess on his desk, she pushed the rest of her body inside. "Sir," she said abruptly, "permission to speak freely?"

"Granted," he grunted, still trying to figure out what was going on in Fullmetal's brain.

Riza relaxed her posture, arms crossing under her breasts. One foot tapped in displeasure, suddenly reminding Roy of his mother. "I just sent Havoc to Edward's office. The toilet is gone, as is half of his office wall. Water is flooding the place, and into the hallway. Just _what_ were you thinking when you decided to blow up his toilet?"

Now, Roy turned his full attention to his assistant. Fixing her with a very serious gaze, he spoke the absolute truth. "It was for my own amusement, First Lieutenant. Do you have a problem with that?"

A crease developed between her eyebrows, and the corners of her mouth drew down. "Do you even need to ask that question? You could have seriously injured him, Sir."

"Pfft…I don't think so." Roy scoffed, much to Riza's apparent surprise. "I know that kid. He wouldn't have gotten hurt by something as minor as an exploding toilet. He's tough as nails, and far too good of an alchemist to allow that to happen."

Riza tilted her head slightly to one side, her eyes narrowing slightly. "That sounds almost like a compliment, Sir. You'd best be careful with these pranks. It _might_ start to look like when the boys tried pulling my hair in the schoolyard." Roy's eyes widened fractionally. What was she implying? That he…Oh, _hell no_, that wasn't right. On _several_ levels. The only reason that Roy had blown up the kid's toilet was to get a bit of excitement around this dreadfully boring place. And what had he gotten? Nothing but a desk full of wet papers. No, it was no schoolyard bully's crush. This was war.

Just like in any war, Roy knew that he needed a good strategy. He needed a battle plan.

* * *

Now seated on the front steps of the massive stone building, Edward chewed on his sandwich. By some miracle, the thing had remained dry, and free of that horrid toilet stench. Once he'd swallowed the bit of food in his mouth, he picked up the bottle of juice he'd gotten from the cafeteria. "Al's going to murder me…" he grumbled under his breath as he took a drink. And it was all _that man's_ fault. Could he have come up with anything that was more infantile? More immature than blowing up a toilet? "At least there wasn't a flaming bag of dog crap in my desk drawer."

"Way to look on the bright side, Fullmetal."

Edward slumped, his head sagging down between his shoulders. Setting down his bottle with a soft clink, he shoved still-damp bangs behind one ear and looked over his shoulder. General Roy Mustang stood as cool as a cucumber, hands in his pockets and leaning against one of the gigantic pillars that held up the front portico of Central's headquarters. Why was it that the very presence of the older man made him feel as if there was a very heavy weight on his shoulders? "Is that an admission of guilt, Sir?" He asked, allowing a bit of his irritation to show.

Mustang only shrugged. "I can neither confirm nor deny any knowledge of how your toilet exploded."

Lies! Always! Why did this son of a bitch always lie? Ed snorted, one corner of his mouth rising in a sarcastic attempt at a grin. "Riiiiight. Just keep digging that hole, General." _I'll catch you in the act. Then,_ Ed thought with an internal smirk, _then you're mine._ But, until that time, he would have to wait, and watch closely. Until the other man made a move, he would just have to play up to him. He could do that. _I can take anything you can dish out, you pansy. _In his head, Ed growled, but outwardly, he held onto an air of lazy indifference as he said, "Permission to return to eating my lunch, Sir?"

Roy moved more quickly than Edward thought possible. He removed his hands from his pockets, grabbed one of Ed's arms just under the shoulder, and hauled him to his feet. Still a head shorter than his commanding officer, even at the age of twenty, Ed had to crane his neck to look up at Roy. He felt his arm pull and twist as the older man's grip tightened, and those dark eyes hardened. "Permission _denied_, Edward. Now, I believe that you have some forms to fill out."

Turning away from Ed, he began to make his way back to the main entrance of the building. Try as he might, he was unable to remove Roy's gloved hand from his arm. Again, he felt strong fingers digging into his arm, and his hand began to go numb. "Hey!" he yelled, twisting and turning, thrashing in his attempt to escape. "Hey, you ass! Let me go!" His pleas went unheard, and Roy continued to drag him down the hallways, up two flights of stairs, down another hall, and through the communal office. Falman looked as if his eyes were going to fall out of his head, while Havoc paused in lighting his cigarette. When they reached the door to Mustang's office, he heard Riza Hawkeye call from across the room.

"Sir! What are you doing with Major Elric!?" Her eyes showed concern, and not a little suspicion. Edward mouthed words at her. _Help me. He's insane._ Riza began weaving through the maze of desks to get to them, and continued to speak to Roy as the General fiddled with the key for his office door. "Sir, I insist that you release the Major immediately. He looks uncomfortable."

"Halt," came Mustang's low, commanding voice, and Riza stopped immediately. Consternation came over her face, only to be replaced by apology. He knew that look. Her hands were tied. "First Lieutenant Hawkeye, please remain precisely where you are until I tell you to go elsewhere. I have an assignment for the Major, and as his office is no longer serviceable, he will occupy the small desk in the corner of mine." Edward opened his mouth to protest, but he soon shut it again when he felt the air around him begin to heat up. _The bastard, _he thought, _he's going to _cook_ me!_

When the door finally opened, Ed was roughly shoved inside. He stumbled, and then tripped on the edge of the carpet he'd earlier made wet. The only thing that saved him from a very ungraceful landing on his pride was the fact that his arm was still in Mustang's iron grip. Instead, he used that leverage to right himself. And then the hold was gone. One glance at how wrinkled his sleeve was told him that there would be a rather well-articulated hand-shaped bruise there tomorrow. He flexed his fingers, trying to get feeling back into them. "What's the big idea? I didn't do anything to you!" Ed spat, very nearly giving in to the urge to pummel the man.

Roy reached out, and Ed backed away. He was not going to be abused in this way! "Relax, kid." The voice that came out of the taller man was now completely different from the one he'd used before. There was no command, no arrogance. Well, there was a lot _less_ arrogance. Ed looked up at Roy, who was edging closer. The hand that extended toward him had not dropped, and it soon landed on Ed's shoulder. It did not squeeze, but exerted gentle pressure, guiding him toward the back of the room, where he now saw a very small desk. It was no more than a card table, really, only more solidly built. "Sit."

Cautiously, Edward did as he was told. Roy backed away, retreating to his own desk. What was this man playing at? He…he must have cracked. Mustang had gone insane—batshit insane—and was now taking it out on Ed. That must be it. "General?" he asked tentatively, and garnered no response. "Sir?"

The creak of springs and leather sounded loud in Ed's ears, since it was only a few feet away. Roy sank into the cushions, somehow appearing smaller. He sighed heavily before saying in a somewhat defeated tone, "Stop calling me Sir, Fullmetal. It makes me feel…"

Roy had trailed off there, his eyes closing as if he were trying to steady himself. How did it make him feel? _Old? Tired? Annoyed? _What? Ed didn't ask. However, he did inquire, "Then what am I supposed to call you?"

"Just call me Roy." Mustang's eyes fell onto him again as they opened. Ed was not sure he liked what he saw. "I need a little normality right now." Wait. What? Had something happened? Had his dog died? No, Roy didn't have a dog. If not that, then what the hell was going on? He didn't ask, though. That information was volunteered. "When you came in earlier, I was on the phone with my doctor."

Eyes like spent coals turned toward the window. Mustang's face seemed drawn, somehow. For a long moment, he was silent. "And…what did the doctor say?" Ed asked gently. He didn't know what was going on, since the bastard seemed to be having mood swings, and started talking about a doctor. To be honest, Ed didn't think it would be all that surprising if Roy Mustang had ended up with some sexually transmitted disease. Syphilis sounded about right, but Ed thought Chlamydia would be more fitting. He'd seen pictures of what that did to you. Not pretty at all.

Disturbing his morbid and highly satisfying thoughts, Roy blurted, "I have cancer."

"Wait…what?" Ed's entire train of thought derailed at that one. "You've got…"

Roy waited for him to say it, but he knew he couldn't finish. That word was hard to say. It was what killed his mother. Something in his chest started to ache. How long did Mustang have? Months…years? There were some kinds of cancer that killed you faster than others, and Ed knew that those could sneak up on you, even if you thought you were perfectly healthy. He'd seen it.

"Cancer, Edward. I have _cancer_. Dr. Brumfield says I have a tumor the size of a ping-pong ball in my head." Ed thought that Roy sounded bitter. He looked like he was trying to shrink in on himself, too.

_But,_ Ed thought, _they have treatments, don't they? He could live longer, maybe even beat it._ When he said as much, Roy shook his head. "No, Edward. There are no treatments for this. They can't even cut it out."

The ache in his chest intensified. He might not like this guy, but he wasn't inhumanly cruel. "I'm sorry…" Ed murmured lowly, for once in his life feeling truly apologetic. "Should I…" he cast around for something, anything to take his mind off of the genuine feelings of pity and compassion that welled up inside him. "Should I get you something? Um…water? Mom was always thirsty…"

* * *

Roy watched the panicked expression on Edward's face as he looked around the room awkwardly. When he was going through the younger man's file earlier, for what must have been the hundredth time since they'd become acquainted, he ran across a copy of Trisha Elric's death certificate. The woman died of a rare form of cancer that was completely incurable. Now, he knew that his decision had been right. It was perfect. Ed looked as if he were going to start crying soon.

Mean-spirited? Maybe. Evil? Quite possibly. Brilliant? Most certainly.

* * *

**A/N:** So, what do you think? Is it evil enough? Love you guys if you review!

A note on canon and accuracy: I'm not exactly sure what it was that Trisha Elric died of. Though I've seen the Anime, I have only gotten through 1 volume of the Manga, so if there's any detail that I've missed on that account, please forgive me. For the purposes of this story, Trisha died of cancer. Also, where age is concerned, I'm basing age off of Edward, who is 20. All other ages should be adjusted accordingly in your minds, to avoid that increasingly pesky confusion over child pron.


	2. II: Deception

**A/N:** Here's the second installment. It's much longer than the last one, which was nothing but setup. Now, I have to warn you that things are going to get pretty heavy toward the end of the chapter. Neither one of them is being completely truthful, so just watch out for that. And as always, I'm very grateful for your reviews. Everyone seems to think that there will be a huge group of people that want to kill Roy. That might be a bit of a disappointment, since that won't happen. But I think what does happen is satisfying. So read, and enjoy.

**Warnings:**

**FL--**Foul Language

**Psy--**Psychological

**V--**Mild Violence

**Title:** Demon In the Design (or… A Good Idea At the Time)

**Series:** Full Metal Alchemist

**Pair:** Roy/Ed

**Begun:** November 3, 2008

**Complete: **

**Summary:** Prank wars never end well. Design, Deception, Denial and Decision take Roy Mustang to an unexpected Destination.

* * *

**II:** Deception

Roy Mustang was content. It was nearly seven in the evening but for once, even if he was at work, he thought it was more bearable than usual. One might ask him why this was. To such a question, Roy would have to answer with two words: Edward Elric. With the amount of paper now piled neatly on Edward's small desk, he knew that he could call his date and they might resume their plans, but that would spoil everything. After all, the blonde man had made a visible effort to curb both his temper and his sharp tongue and Roy was not going to jeopardize the rare experience that was being in the presence of a docile Edward. When he spoke, his voice was soft, and every so often, he caught those golden eyes looking at him.

He read pity in Ed's eyes, along with something rather sad. _Probably thinking of how he won't have me to yell at much longer…_Covering up his smile by leaning into his balled fist, Roy tried to think of what it might be like if the shoe were on the other foot. And if the situation were not fabricated. What would life be like if he did not have his short-tempered subordinate around? For one thing, he knew that it would be much less eventful. Having Ed around meant that there was never a dull moment. Not to mention the fact that if there was a problem involving alchemy, the two of them could debate about it all day, which helped to pass the time.

Roy and Ed could come up with the exact same solution for a problem. Really, they could. But it was _how_ they arrived at their answers that would fuel their arguments…it did not matter about basic theories, and that various procedures could be carried out to create the same result. What mattered was that Edward did not do things _his_ way. Granted, his form of Alchemy was far removed from what Edward was used to, and the methods he employed were often described by the younger man as "tedious and in need of revision", but how on earth could they really sit there and argue for six hours about the best way to create a time-delayed alchemical array?

Yes, he realized, if Edward suddenly developed a life-threatening illness and died, he might miss him. Or, rather, he would miss certain _things_ about him.

"Roy?" Came Edward's newly-assumed gentle tone, "It's seven o'clock."

He nodded. "Yes. I suppose I should let you go home now."

For a few moments, he pretended to be doing his paperwork, listening to the soft rustle of cloth, the scrape of a chair on flooring. And then he heard footsteps approach his desk. Usually, his subordinates stood in front of the desk. Even Riza, whom he had known for many years, kept her position strictly formal. But Edward did not move around to the front of the desk. He approached directly to the side, standing only a few feet from the chair in which Roy sat. "How are you feeling?"

* * *

Ed watched as Roy looked up from his papers. He looked more relaxed than he had been earlier, and for that, Ed was glad. "I feel much better than a few hours ago, thank you." A few seemingly long seconds passed, during which Roy simply sat there, his chair still facing the door, head turned toward the younger man. "You can go now, Fullmetal."

It felt odd, sort of disproportionate to be able to call his commanding officer by his given name, while he was still addressed by his title. They had never really been on friendly terms, but if Roy was sick…maybe he should make an effort to know him better? There must be a good man under all that arrogance and hair. "You…" he began, somehow finding it difficult to suggest, "You can call me Ed, if you want." Roy only nodded before turning back to his papers. That was as good a dismissal as any. "Good night si—I mean, _Roy_. Try to get some sleep."

* * *

Riza watched as Ed carefully shut the door to the General's office, making as little noise as possible. Earlier, she had performed the minor insubordination of moving from the spot where she had been for nearly an hour. It was not as if Roy would remember that she was out there, waiting to be released from her position. She sat at her desk, nearby the door out of which the young alchemist had just come. Ed turned to her and gave a short wave, saying in a quieter version of his voice, "Good night, Riza."

It was strange, the tone he was using, as if he were trying not to wake someone who was asleep. "Good night, Edward," she replied, and kept her eyes glued to the way he moved, much more at ease than before. Then, Riza thought that maybe he had snuck out, because Roy had fallen asleep. That was altogether possible. The General did sometimes succumb to fatigue while at work, but it was rare. However, she had been wondering about the reason for how quiet it had been after Roy dragged Ed into his office.

Had the young alchemist done something? Perhaps Roy was hog-tied and gagged. That would make sense, and if so, she would be sure to take a few pictures before setting him free. Moving over to the door, she listened. All was still. Without knocking, she turned the knob and entered the office. Instead of finding the man drooling on his papers or restrained on the floor, he simply sat in his chair, hands folded, with a rather pleased smile on his face.

"Sir," Riza said in her firmest tone, "I am only going to ask once. What is going on?"

His dark eyes turned away from whatever thoughts in which they'd been immersed. One of his eyebrows rose. "I have no desire to enlighten you on the matter, First Lieutenant. Please, exit the way you came in." She could feel her back stiffen. What the hell was going on that he didn't feel like telling her? As Riza moved to comply with his orders, she glanced at the small desk. Neatly stacked papers lined the front side, while a small blotter sat closest to the chair behind. Forms the largest of the stacks seemed to be of forms which had been filled out completely, while another looked only to need the General's signature.

Whatever it was that Roy was up to, it seemed to be nothing more than a way to shirk his duties. Again, her eyes narrowed. When her hand met the doorknob, she looked back over her shoulder. "What you're doing, Sir…if I find out that you cause any damage to the Major, you will regret it."

* * *

A sudden chill came over Roy as the door closed behind Riza. "That woman…" he muttered. She was capable of freezing him on the spot. The glare she'd sent at him just before she left had caused him to shiver, if only a little. But what harm could a joke like this cause? Ed had a thick skin. He could take it. And if he got some peace and quiet—and someone willing to wait on him hand and foot—then so much the better.

* * *

Alphonse Elric was sitting at the kitchen table, peeling potatoes when his brother got home. The front door made a squealing sound, just as it always did, and then closed. "Brother! How do you feel about—" and then Edward walked into the kitchen. He was utterly disheveled: hair frizzy from having obviously gotten wet, his uniform so rumpled that it looked as if it had been slept in, he had a spot of ink on the end of his nose. He also seemed only to be partially there, as if his brain had long since checked out for the day. "—Wh-what in the name of God happened to you?!"

Ed's far-off look did not change much as he waved his auto-mail hand at Al. "Nothing…just the toilet exploded this morning. I'm fine. The General let me work in his office with him." Al's expression became even more alarmed at his brother's words, but all of his sputtering went unnoticed. Edward just passed through the kitchen on his way to the hallway bathroom, leaving a gawking Alphonse holding his knife and potato. "I'll be out in a few minutes." Soon thereafter, he heard the shower roar to life.

Resuming his previous task, Al tried to think of what it was that could be wrong with his brother. He did seem a little tired, but never before had fatigue made him seem so despondent. There must be something else. A soft 'plunk' sounded as he dropped the last potato into the pot. _Well,_ he thought, _I guess it doesn't matter what I cook, since Ed doesn't seem to care._ After another moment or two of thought, he decided on having mashed potatoes. It might be nice to have some ham, as well.

Ed momentarily came back into the kitchen, dressed in freshly washed lounge pants and a sleeveless undershirt. He was rubbing at his hair with a gray towel. When he peeked out from under the towel, he looked into the pot. "Do you think there will be enough for three?"

Al's eyes couldn't seem to widen enough. Were they having a guest? "I…I suppose so. Who's coming?"

From under the towel, Al heard, "No one." Just as he was going to try and protest, Ed supplied, "I was thinking of bringing the General something. He's going to be stuck at headquarters for a few more hours, yet." Now Al was extremely confused. What in the world was going on that his brother suddenly wanted to bring the senior alchemist something to eat? The silence that ensued apparently reached Ed with its awkward quality, and the older man pulled the towel from his head. "He…he's not feeling well. There's nothing more pitiful than Roy when he's sick." There was something more to it, Al was sure, but he knew better than to press Edward for information. If he wanted to tell him, then he would. There was nothing more to it.

* * *

Roy Mustang leaned back in his chair. It was close to ten o'clock. His neck was beginning to stiffen from bending over all of these papers, and long since, he'd developed a headache from lack of food. Just as he thought about said headache again, his stomach rumbled. He knew better than to venture into the cafeteria at this hour. All that would be available would be half-burned soup and stale day-old bread. This late, there was only a skeleton crew at headquarters, and he'd shoved Riza out of the door an hour ago. She worked too hard for her own good, and _someone _had to force her to relax.

There were still many things he needed to do before he could go home. Sighing, he stood to stretch his legs for a moment. Roy stepped around his chair, turning to look out of the window. The lights of the city twinkled, dimmed by the light of the room reflected in the glass. He studied his reflection. To be sure, it was a handsome face. Well formed, finely placed features that now partially hid behind hair that never seemed to obey his wishes looked back at him. It was a handsome face, indeed, and young, but one look into his eyes at the moment, and he could swear he was close to ninety.

Why did he feel so old? He knew that he had seen some things…that he had _done_ things. Roy had heard that these things made a man feel as if he were older than he was. But what about what was left? Was there anything left of the man he had been? Before that day he'd nearly taken his own life, stopped only by a man that had given his own life to protect—

"No," he said softly, closing his eyes, "not tonight. Don't think of that."

A soft knock on his door had him instinctively shoving his hands into his pockets, rummaging for his gloves. Dark eyes flew open, and the door swung inward. In the window, he saw something that broke a little of his brain. Edward Elric stood in the darkened doorway, a bundle the size of a medicine-ball in his arms. "Roy?" The tentative way his name was said disturbed him somewhat, but he turned around anyway. The younger man stood there in street clothes, looking rather uncomfortable, holding the large bundle wrapped in what appeared to be a gingham tablecloth. He hefted it for a moment, and then took a few steps into the office. "I thought…well…I knew that you were probably still here, and since it's partially my fault…"

"Spit it out, Edward." Good grief, the kid could be stupid sometimes!

The corners of Ed's mouth turned down, and he marched straight forward, plunking the bundle down on top of all the papers on Roy's desk. Instead of saying anything—Roy suspected it might come out rather sharp if he did—Ed just started untying the large knot at the top of the tablecloth. When the corners were flung aside, Roy could not believe his eyes. There were plastic containers, each filled with a different dish. Edward had brought him dinner.

* * *

Ed watched Roy from the corner of his eye. The look on his face as he started opening the container that held the ham Al had re-heated was absolutely priceless. He looked like a man that had not eaten in a week. When he popped open the mashed potatoes, and unwrapped a small lump of butter, he thought Roy was going to have a fit. Finally, there was a small bowl of peas and carrots, which was given a cursory glance. It appeared that he and Roy had something in common: a mutual distaste for vegetables. "Hungry?" Ed asked, not quite able to keep the amusement from his voice.

"A little." Roy admitted before he sat down in his chair. "Did you—"

Ed waved a dismissive hand. "Hell no. Al's the cook. I'm just the delivery guy." For a moment, he simply watched as the other man looked at the food, seemingly unable to fathom the fact that it was there. "You gonna eat it, or do I have to make you?" That was all it took, really, for Roy to start digging in. Something in Ed's stomach eased at the sight of Roy eating. His mother had always seemed to eat so little toward the end, when she got sick. In the back of his mind, there was a part of Ed that knew it was a bad thing that he kept thinking of his mother when he was around Roy now. But it was simply not in his nature to allow himself to sit there and watch someone close to him waste away. And, whether he liked to admit it or not, Roy was sort of a permanent fixture in his life, and had been for a while now.

"Thanks, Ed," Roy said around a mouth full of mashed potatoes.

"All right," Ed said, "I'm going to get back. You can wash that stuff and give it back tomorrow."

He was halfway to the door when he heard, "Hey," Ed stopped and turned. "It's boring to eat alone. Why not stay a while?" Ed gave a little chuckle, but pulled up the chair from his little desk.

"Don't forget to eat the vegetables." He said, instantly feeling a twinge, knowing that he sounded like a mom. Instead of giving him flak for it, Roy just rolled his eyes and continued to eat. The room was filled with the sounds of a meal, and Ed fell into his own thoughts, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. After some time, Ed gave a small cough, and said, "So what are you going to do?"

Roy paused, fork halfway to his mouth. He lay it down, and fixed Ed with a penetrating stare. "Why?"

Ed wondered that, himself. Was he feeling guilty? Did he suddenly develop sympathy for Roy because he was dying? Or, was it as he was beginning to suspect…was he replacing his mother with Roy? That did, at first, seem completely inconceivable. But the more he thought, the more it seemed like this new need he had to make sure that Roy ate his vegetables, that he got enough sleep, that he _live_…that it was all _him_. It was all his need to save someone, because he couldn't save _her_. But was he going to tell that to Roy? That question could be answered in two words: _Hell no_.

Instead, he decided that it was best to make it about Roy. "I don't want you to remember me as some pissy teen-aged brat." This was partially true, but for the most part, it was a bald-faced lie. However, once the deception began, it was difficult to stop. "Is it a crime that I might feel like figuring out who you are before you're not here anymore?"

Roy smiled a little. "The doctor didn't give me a time-limit, so I'm just going to keep working."

Ed was confused. "Then…then there might be a way to fix it? You might get well?"

* * *

Roy felt sick. Why was his stomach turning like that? Had Ed poisoned him? No, that wasn't it. He was pretty sure that the food had been fine, especially since Al had been the one to make it. What made him ill was the look of blind _hope_ in the younger man's face when he asked that damned question. So he did what he was best at. He evaded. "I don't know, Ed." The corners of Ed's mouth started to creep downward again. He wasn't at all sure if he liked that look. What was he frowning for? Did he think…and that's when the proverbial light bulb came on over his head. "I'm not going to lay down and die, if that's what you mean."

His answer seemed to satisfy Ed, to some extent. The left corner of his mouth jerked up, giving him a crooked sort of smile. "No," Ed said, "I hoped you wouldn't. For a minute there, you had me worried."

Before he could stop himself, he let out a laugh. "That sounded almost like a compliment, Ed. You should be careful. I might start to think you care." Ed looked rather surprised for a minute, and then seemed to relax. Roy had to wonder at how quickly things had gone from awkward and tense to this ease and friendliness. Maybe he should have faked a life-threatening illness sooner?

Ed's voice broke into his thoughts, "I guess I should get going now, and let you finish your work." Before he stood up from his chair, Roy glimpsed a slight reddish color in Ed's face. What in the world was the guy blushing for? Was he embarrassed by something? Or…

"Why don't you hang around for a while? I won't make you work or anything. Just keep me company, okay?" He wasn't sure what he was going to get out of having Ed in his office for more than 12 hours in a day, but this whole situation was intriguing. There were sides of the young alchemist he had never seen before, and Roy couldn't help but want to observe them.

Ed gave a huff. "Like I'm just going to sit here while you work…" For a few seconds, he thought that he would be left alone, but was quite surprised when Edward went right back to his chair, pulling back to the smaller desk. "I hate just sitting around while other people work." His auto-mail hand sheared off a small stack of forms from the short stack on the front of the desk. "It makes me feel useless."

Roy watched as Ed picked up a pen, and bent over a maintenance request. That much was true. It did seem at times that the elder Elric brother was not happy unless he was well occupied. But Edward was anything but useless, and it was strange that his subordinate might feel that way. "Well," Roy said, hiding an amused smile as he gathered up the dirty containers from his dinner, "just don't expect any overtime pay for this."

He got no reaction out of Ed other than a growled, "Cheapskate…"

* * *

At nearly one in the morning, Roy looked over at Ed's desk. The younger man was fast asleep, his face resting on his flesh arm, hair covering his eyes. The papers on the desk were in two stacks. His own desk was in similar condition. It was good that they had been able to get so much work done. That meant there would be less to do in the morning before the usual flood of papers came in. Standing, he moved over to the small desk. "Ed," he said quietly, but the younger man did not stir. He put a hand on Ed's shoulder, shaking him gently.

The auto-mail hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, twisting sharply and pulling down. Roy grunted in pain, forced to his knees from the angle at which his arm was being yanked. Ed's eyes fluttered open, and he glared blindly at Roy for a moment before coming fully awake. Horror filled golden eyes, and he quickly released Roy's arm. "Are you all right? I'm sorry!" Not waiting for an answer, Ed pulled out the silver cuff-link from his shirtsleeve, and pushed both shirt and jacket fabrics away, up past Roy's elbow. Gently, with his flesh hand, he felt the bones and tendons. "It's okay. Nothing's broken or anything."

He looked very relieved, as if he'd truly been afraid of hurting Roy. "I'm not made of glass, you know."

Ed looked away as he replaced the sleeves and cuff-link. "I know you aren't. But I…I was having a bad dream…and I lashed out at you. Sorry." Roy took in the other man's body language. The way his shoulders were drawing in and up, lips thinning, and that he would not look at him. He was really concerned. More to the point, Ed was _scared_ he might have hurt him.

"Hey," he said in his most amiable tone, "Don't worry about it. I'm fine." Ed still looked uncomfortable. "Come on, kid. Let me take you home." He stood, and moved to get his coat. Ed didn't move. "Ed?"

A crease had formed between blond eyebrows, and then he heard, "I think I'll walk."

There was something in Ed's tone that told him he really shouldn't leave the younger man alone. He'd heard his own voice sound like that many times. "I'll walk with you, then." The look he got from Edward then could have scorched stone, but he didn't give up. "I ate vegetables. You're stuck with me." There was some growling as Ed shoved his arms into his dark brown coat, but he did wait for Roy. Taking up the tablecloth bundle, he made for the door, and hit the lights on the way out.

The walk through the building was mostly silent, with the occasional footfall from the night guards. They got to the street, and turned right to walk to Edward's apartment. Half a block of stony silence later, Roy couldn't take it anymore. "You going to tell me what you were having a nightmare about, or do I have to beat it out of you?"

In a very snippy tone, Ed spat, "No. It's none of your business."

Keeping his tone smooth and calm, he replied as he stepped over a drain, "It became my business when you tried to break my arm, Ed." Even in the dim lights of the street, he could see how annoyed Ed was. It was one of his most common expressions, after all, and was easy to identify. It was a long few minutes before he got any form of answer.

"What do you dream about that you wake up screaming, in a cold sweat, Roy?" Ed had stopped walking, now. A nearby streetlamp caught his eyes, causing them to flash. "A man like you must have seen a lot. You've been at war. You've done things. Killed people. What do your demons look like?" Roy blinked in surprise. This was suddenly getting a lot heavier than he liked.

Trying to evade again, he said, "That's not something I usually talk about without large amounts of alcohol in my system."

Ed's voice became calm, and determined. "I have a bottle of single-malt 30-year-old whiskey left over from my birthday."

Roy's surprise knew no bounds. He couldn't tell Ed that it wasn't his business. That excuse was one he'd just flattened, himself. So he just relented. "Fine. Lead the way." The rest of the walk to Ed's building was long, and silent. Both men were lost in their own thoughts, battling their own demons. The building was falling into disrepair, and the elevator was rickety, but otherwise, it was in decent shape. When they approached the door, Ed put a finger over his lips. Apparently, he believed Al would be asleep.

The hinge creaked when the door swung inward, and Roy listened intently. It seemed that Alphonse was indeed asleep. Ed pointed to a spot on the floor, just inside the door. "Stay here," he whispered, "I'll go get the bottle and a couple glasses." Without another word, Ed disappeared into the darkness of the apartment, leaving Roy standing there. Only a few moments later, he returned and shoved Roy toward the door again. "We can't talk in here. Al's pretty grouchy if you wake him up in the middle of the night."

Once they were outside the apartment again, Ed led him through a short hallway to a door. This door led to a short, narrow staircase. When they exited the ascending passage via another door, Roy saw that they were now on the roof. Near the street-side, there was a low table and a couple of wrought-iron chairs. It was to this table that Edward walked. Roy followed, only because he could think of no way out.

They seated themselves, and Ed pulled the cork from the bottle. He set down the glasses and poured a finger of amber liquid in the bottom, then pushed one at Roy. "Bottoms up," Ed muttered before throwing his head back and downing the whiskey. A small hiss accompanied the intake of breath after this process. Roy wondered how often Ed did this. Did he often drink to forget his problems? Ed's auto-mail hand made a vague waving gesture in his direction. "You, too, Roy."

He did as he was told, tossing down the alcohol as quickly as his companion. Surprisingly, it was actually pretty good stuff. It must have been the bottle that Armstrong had given him. They sat there for a few minutes and watched a couple of cars go by, and Roy reached for the bottle. Pouring himself a double, he began to speak. "You wanted to know about my demons…they'd probably seem pretty familiar to you. A couple of them look a lot like your friend, Winry. But you know about those…" Roy trailed off, suddenly feeling the need to drink more quickly.

Ed nodded, pouring himself another drink. He sipped, eyes closing. When he pulled the glass away from his lips, he asked, "Have you ever wondered…if you just did something because you knew you _could_? You know, the kinds of things that you'd never actually _do_, but know that you have the ability and know-how?" Roy watched Ed's face. It twisted into a mask of self-loathing. His flesh hand gripped the glass, and he drank the rest of its contents. "I look in the mirror sometimes, and I see that potential. It's there. I could do those things. All I have to do is clap."

Roy waited a minute or two before speaking. During that time, he swallowed the remainder of his whiskey, trying to think of how he should phrase his thoughts, and poured another. "That's something each of us has to deal with in his own way, Ed. You have the power to create horrors the like of which man has never seen, quite literally in the palm of your hand. But it's what you _do_ that matters. I know that you would never do those things."

"Wouldn't I?" Ed's eyes shut tighter, and then his head hung down toward the table. The fingers of his auto-mail hand dug into his hair, and he made a sound of frustration. "I've _already_ done things that are forbidden. What makes you think that I wouldn't…that I couldn't…" Roy set down his glass. There was so much of his own struggle in Ed that it pained him to see it. He reached out, but the only part of Ed he could touch was his hand. Gripping that hand, he spoke.

"The fact that you're this affected by it proves that you wouldn't. I'd rather kill myself than do those things in my dreams, no matter how much the little voices in my head might try to tempt me." Ed opened his eyes, a strange new expression in them. It was as if he were only just now seeing who Roy really was. He opened his mouth, but the dark-haired man simply plowed on. "So don't try telling me that you think you're such a horrible person because you know what you're capable of. I could fry you where you sit, and you could skewer me with a spear made from your chair. That doesn't mean we're going to actually do it."

Ed's hand fell away from his glass, instead grasping Roy's own. He could see tears forming in golden eyes, threatening to fall in fat droplets. "Thank you," Ed breathed, his voice taking on a rough edge as he tried to fight off the tide of emotion that was breaking over him. He seemed so fragile just then, as if…he might break at any moment. Unbidden, the image of Ed's face earlier in the day when he'd begun his joke floated to the surface of his mind. _Okay,_ he thought with a twinge of guilt, _so maybe it wasn't such a hot idea._

Now that he'd admitted as much to himself, Roy was a little uncertain as to how he should proceed. Should he tell Ed that it was a joke, and risk being thrown off of the roof after being skewered by the aforementioned spear? Or should he just pretend? A little voice spoke up from the darkened corners of his mind, sounding a little sickly and ill-used. _The longer you wait, the worse it will be_. That would be his conscience. When was the last time he'd heard from that thing? It must have been a while, because the voice was almost foreign, nearly unrecognizable. Misuse of his conscience aside, he struggled with himself over this. There were a few things that might happen. Ed could attempt to kill him, at which point he would be forced to defend himself, and they might destroy the building. On another tack, Ed might decide that revenge was best served cold, and do something _far_ worse to him.

It was odd, but he didn't think he wanted things to go back to the way they had been at the beginning of the day. Roy liked having Ed as a friend. When he let himself relax, Ed was decent to be around. Roy was pretty sure that the problem before had been that Ed felt threatened. They'd always been at odds, and it was nice to bury the hatchet, even if it had been under false pretenses. After all, those who found their names on Edward Elric's Shit List tended to end up either dead or very, very sorry. Without even having the younger man do a thing to him, Roy was already in that latter category. So there was only death to be afraid of? He could handle that.

"Ed," he said quietly, but when Ed didn't look up, he repeated himself. "Ed, look at me." The click of auto-mail accompanied Ed's fingers leaving his hair, and he looked up at Roy. Hair now stuck out in several directions from that side of his head, and he had tears running down his face. _Way to make it hard on a guy, Ed…_ "I have to tell you something."

* * *

Ed wiped his face, sniffling. Roy was looking very serious, which was somewhat rare. Even when he'd told him that he was dying, he didn't look like that. What could be worse than cancer? His mind started whirling, trying to figure out what it was that the other man needed to tell him that could possibly be worse than the news he'd given him earlier, but it could find nothing. "What?" he croaked, hating the way his voice did that when he was upset.

There was hesitation in Roy's face, and he seemed to be tensing up. "Now, Ed, I'm going to be completely honest with you here, so just keep that in mind." Ed felt like someone had dropped a lump of frozen lead into his guts. This _couldn't_ be good. He heard Roy swallow hard before the man holding his hand spoke. "I know you figured out that it was me…with the toilet thing—"

"Who else at headquarters knows how to push my buttons like you do, Roy?" he made a snorting sound. "I knew the second that the damned thing exploded that it was you." After all, there were few people in the military with quite that type of propensity for childishness. That seemed to make Roy smile, but only for a second. Then, he was right back to looking as if death hung over him.

"But I got pissed off when you wet my papers. I was supposed to have a date tonight. She's got really nice legs, you know. I could be looking at those while pretending not to right now, rather than holding your hand—no offense. That's why…" Ed's eyes widened, and that ball of lead in his stomach sank lower, taking his heart with it. _He wouldn't…_ But it appeared that he would, and _did_. "That's why I lied and told you that I had cancer."

Ed froze for a long moment. He stared at Roy, who looked as if he were going to be sick. That was a new one. For once in his miserable life, Roy Mustang looked as if he felt remorse. Instead of yelling, he let out a wry laugh. "You know," he said bitterly, "I can't believe I was actually starting to like you." Ed wasn't really sure where that came from, but in situations like this, he found it best to shoot from the hip. "Just when I think you're human, you go and do something like _this_."

"Ed—"

He tightened his grip on Roy's hand just until he was sure it would be painful. Through clenched teeth, he snapped, "Shut your mouth, Roy. You've said enough for one day." His chest hurt. "I started to _trust_ you," he growled, starting to lever himself up from where he sat. "You wanted to know what I was dreaming? I'll tell you, you son of a bitch. I was dreaming that you were dying. _Really dying_. I was fighting the Gate, tooth and claw, trying to keep you _out_ of it. Now, I wish I would have broken your goddamned arm." Ed could feel a poisonous sensation creeping through him, and it was difficult to stay calm. It wasn't even satisfying to hear the bones in Roy's hand start grinding together. "I…" Ed began, but lost track of his own thoughts. He didn't know what he wanted to say anymore.

"Ed," Roy said haltingly, pain evident on his face, "I didn't mean it. I didn't think you would take it this way."

A red film flashed over Ed's vision. "How the fuck was I supposed to take it? You have my file, Roy. I _know_ that you're aware my mother died of cancer. How did you expect me to react when _another_ person in my life is going to die of the same fucking thing?" He squeezed Roy's hand tighter, and felt only slightly rewarded when he felt a snap in the older man's hand.

Roy was breathing harder now, obviously trying not to cry out in pain. Instead, he said, "I thought you were stronger than that. I thought…I don't know what I thought. I'm sorry, Ed." Ed watched as Roy's head lowered to the table, forehead pressed into the weathered wood. All struggle and tension went out of him, and he just sort of laid there, his arm twisted up at an odd angle and Ed close to breaking another of his metacarpal bones. Again, Ed was struck by how unsatisfying it was to cause physical harm to this man. He'd always thought it would be like an epiphany. He would feel so much _better_, so much freer after breaking Roy's bones…but that wasn't the case. Slowly, Ed released his hold on Roy's hand. After a long moment of staring at the General, Ed reached out and corked the bottle.

"Come on, you sad sack," he muttered, using his position to lever Roy to his feet. "I guess I should get you to the hospital. I broke your hand."

Roy's eyes stayed on the ground, and he shrugged. "I kind of deserved it." Ed rolled his eyes. Of course he deserved it, but it was nowhere near as much fun as it should have been. He wasn't sure what that said about his state of mind, but whatever that might be, it couldn't be good.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry if it was too long. I feel like they're letting something slip away, and I just can't keep hold of it.

A note on canon and accuracy: I'm not exactly sure what it was that Trisha Elric died of. Though I've seen the Anime, I have only gotten through 1 volume of the Manga, so if there's any detail that I've missed on that account, please forgive me. For the purposes of this story, Trisha died of cancer. Also, where age is concerned, I'm basing age off of Edward, who is 20. All other ages should be adjusted accordingly in your minds, to avoid that increasingly pesky confusion over child pron.


	3. III: Denial

**A/N:** And now for part three. I hope that I didn't alienate too many of you with the second part. There seemed to be several people that believe I've let Roy off too easily. While that might have seemed true last chapter, I assure you that Ed gives him hell the whole way now. And he isn't the only one. I also want to thank those of you that expressed deep interest in the story. It's great to see people getting so into it! Hope you all like this chapter, perhaps a bit more than the last one (I'm rather sheepish over it, actually). Apologies for how long this took, by the way. It went through 4 rounds of edits.

**Warnings:**

**FL--**Foul Language

**S-ai--**Mild Shounen-ai hints

**Title:** Demon In the Design (or… A Good Idea At the Time)

**Series:** Full Metal Alchemist

**Pair:** Roy/Ed

**Begun:** November 3, 2008

**Complete: **

**Summary:** Prank wars never end well. Design, Deception, Denial and Decision take Roy Mustang to an unexpected Destination.

* * *

**III: Denial**

It was ten o'clock in the morning, and Jean Havoc raised one eyebrow. The General stood in the doorway, his coat slung over his shoulders as usual, but unlike every other day, he held his right hand to his chest. There, peeking out from beneath his sleeve, was a pristine white cast. "Hey, General!" he heard Breda call from behind him, "What happened to your arm?"

Roy, who looked a little paler than usual, grunted in response. "I broke it doing something stupid. Let's just leave it at that." Havoc didn't know what to make of that. He thought it might mean that Roy got into a bar fight or something, but didn't get anywhere with the girl the fight started over. Sounded more like something he himself might do, but anything was possible.

He walked past them, and was nearly to his office door when Riza piped up, "The Major is already in your office, Sir. He's been here since six this morning." Roy turned, a look of disbelief on his face. He seemed to think for a long moment, and then nodded. Finally, their commanding officer went through the door, leaving them all wondering at what he was thinking.

* * *

Edward sat hunched over a fresh stack of papers, once more dressed in blue. The uniform was freshly washed and pressed, and Roy had to admit it looked much better now that it was neither soaked in water nor wrinkled as if it had been slept in for days. With the exception of the hair he still wore long, Ed looked every inch the military man. They had come to a tentative understanding at the hospital, but Roy didn't know how happy he was about it. Ed would deal with Roy's papers until a suitable replacement could be found, and Roy…he would keep their relationship on a strictly professional level. No, he didn't like that _at all. _

"Morning, Ed." He didn't expect a reply, so he was unsurprised when no sound came from the young man in the corner. Taking off his coat, he hung it on a peg behind the door. When Roy approached the small desk, he took a better look at Ed. He narrowed his eyes slightly before saying, "Stand up, Major." Narrow shoulders stiffened, but Ed did as he was ordered. He slid his chair backward, and got to his feet, stepping to the side of the desk. Back straight, eyes looking directly ahead of him, he affected a rigid stance and look of disenterest. But Roy knew better. "Did you sleep at all last night, Edward?"

"No, Sir." There was absolutely no feeling in Ed's voice; neither good nor bad, it was the epitome of neutrality.

Roy frowned, raising his good hand to scratch at the side of his head. "So, I'm back to being _Sir,_ am I?" Ed said nothing. He pursed his lips for a moment. "A man that has had the privilege of breaking my bones also has the right to call me by my given name. It is much better than my rank."

Ed's voice was still bland when he replied, "It goes against protocol to refer to one's commanding officer in any way that is familiar. If you please, General, I have to get these papers ready for you to sign, since you cannot fill them out on your own."

A small spark of what might be frustration ignited in Roy's head. "Very well, Major. Carry on." He watched Ed go back to work and sighed. It was going to be a long day. Because he was not yet ready to sign anything, he picked up the phone. After dialing the number for the maintenance division, he waited for the operator. When the woman came onto the line, he was directed to a young Lieutenant, who was apparently in charge of all requests for building repairs. "Lieutenant Mason, this is General Mustang. I wonder how things are going with the repairs on Major Elric's office?"

* * *

Ed's hand slowed. What was Roy playing at? He supposed that he wanted to be away from Ed now…When the older man's voice rose in irritation, Ed nearly flinched. "I don't _care_ what you think Lieutenant. The Major has more important things to do than sit on his hands while you all scratch your heads. Fix it. You've got one week." The sound of the phone being slammed down into its cradle made him jump, if only a little. "Idiot…" Roy growled, and Ed glanced at him from the corner of his eye. There was a crease between his eyebrows, and his good hand was rubbing at one of his temples. _Hangover?_ Ed stifled a grin. That would be good, but it was impossible. He was pretty sure that Roy could drink him under the table any day. In fact, Ed knew he could. Any more of that stuff the previous night, and it would have been _him_ with the hangover.

So he was pretty sure Roy hadn't slept, either. He had refused when the doctor offered him pain medication and because of that, his hand probably kept him up most of the night. He fell back into his work, ignoring any other sounds in the room, and time began to pass in a blur. By noon, he had finished most of the papers, and every so often, Roy would peel off a twenty-sheet stack from the top of his pile. In this way, they passed the time, until Ed realized that he was alone in the office, right around half past one. The room was strangely quiet, and seemed very empty. He supposed it was only natural, but then again, it was not.

He found it rather frightening how quickly he'd grown used to Roy's presence. Ed had somehow gotten used to seeing him in the corner of his vision; and the way he would catch black eyes watching him curiously. That somewhat heavy, oft-times oppressive feeling at the edge of his consciousness had become familiar, even necessary…though at the moment he wanted nothing to do with the Flame Alchemist.

Looking over at that large leather chair, he remembered how small Roy had looked while seated there yesterday, how vulnerable. Was it impossible , unthinkable that _any_ of it had been true? Roy wasn't dying, but what about all the rest of it? Had the entire day been a lie? Ed rubbed his forehead. He really should have tried to sleep last night. But they'd gotten out of the hospital so late, it wasn't even worth it. So he had gotten home just in time to grab breakfast and explain to Al what had happened. His younger brother had been outraged, of course, but had refrained from leaving the apartment to murder Roy only because Ed had just taken him to the hospital. It would probably be a couple of days yet before the younger Elric imposed his formidable powers of persuasion on General Mustang. Al had quickly readied his spare uniform, which Ed thought would reinforce the idea that he was Roy's subordinate officer, and nothing more.

Now, he felt sort of empty. Or, perhaps he was just emotionally spent. Ed leaned on his hand, closing his eyes for a minute. He felt so tired…and he'd almost been here long enough to say that he'd worked a full day. But he knew that everyone else was too busy to come in here and fill out Roy's papers. Riza was too busy screening the paperwork, Havoc was dealing with minor issues that didn't need to go through Roy. Breda was looking over legal papers with Fuery, and a couple of privates were acting as couriers. So it was up to him to get the office through the day. That thought made him feel even more tired. So…tired…

* * *

Roy opened the door to his office, adjusting the paper sack under his arm. He slipped inside, and was about to tell Ed about what was inside his bag when he stopped short. The younger man was still seated at the small desk, but he was leaning on his hand, apparently asleep. He leaned on his hand, eyes closed and looking quite peaceful. Roy smiled a little. As quietly as possible, he walked over to his desk and set down the bag. He then unrolled the top of the brown bag and removed half of its contents. These, he placed on the front edge of Ed's desk, before moving back to his chair and sitting down loudly. Ed jumped, and gave a strange half-snore-half cough. "Wha—"

Roy smiled slightly. "Sleeping on the job, Major?" He was rewarded by a dark scowl from Ed, only to see that same expression replaced by one of confusion when the younger man's eyes strayed to the foreign objects in front of him. Nimble fingers pried the lid from the small bowl, which contained a beef stew that Roy felt was particularly nice. He had a similar bowl, himself. A sandwich came next, wrapped in waxed paper, which was as near to the one Ed had been eating the previous day as Roy could remember. Ham, dark green lettuce, mustard, a thick slice of tomato, and a bit of cheese were all he could really recall. He had wanted to make up for the fact that he interrupted the younger man's lunch to lay down what proved to be the most vicious lie that had ever popped out of his mouth. Ed looked at these things in a rather skeptical manner before he opened the final container.

A reverent moan escaped the younger man, and he immediately began to drink the contents. "Oh, God that's good…" Roy actually let out a small laugh at that, causing Ed to shoot him a glare. "What?" He growled in an accusatory tone, "I haven't had any coffee today."

"Addict." Roy teased, feeling his smile widen to a grin.

One thin, blonde eyebrow rose, indicating Edward's dislike for the conversation. He did, however, reply. "Takes one to know one, Sir." Silence fell, and for a moment, Roy thought it might be a smidgeon companionable. Then, Ed added, "Don't think that this puts you on my good side." Roy knew better than to expect that. Nothing was easy with Ed. And if he wanted that nice feeling he'd had the day before, he would have to work a lot harder than a single bought lunch. That much was apparent and expected.

His smile took on a wry quality as he said softly, "Oh, the door to the doghouse is a long way off. I know."

* * *

It was ten thirty in the morning and even with his overcoat on, the hallway was freezing. Ed shuffled down the corridor, hugging his dark wool coat around himself. Why in the world was the furnace broken on a day like this? Only one more turn, and he would make it to his office. Not that it would be any warmer in there, but at least it was fixed now. The place was about the size of a broom-closet, and the bathroom was even smaller, so maybe after he'd been there for a while, it would start to warm up. Body heat displacement tended to fill up a room when it was small. When he rounded the corner, he stopped, and then retreated back a few paces to peer around the edge of the wall. Roy was knocking at his door.

Damn but that man was persistent. He didn't take subtle hints, or even obvious ones. Ed had informed him flat-out that he didn't want to be friends with him. Hell, he didn't want _anything_ from him. "Who are you spying on?" Ed jumped nearly an entire foot off of the floor, and whirled around in mid-air, only to find Riza standing behind him, her arms crossed under her breasts and looking as if she had caught him with his hand in the proverbial cookie-jar. He gaped at her, his mouth opening and closing like that of a fish for nearly ten seconds. When she obviously became impatient, she leaned past him and looked around the corner herself.

Sighing heavily, she straightened. "You're being ridiculous, Edward." _She wouldn't say that if she knew what he did_, Ed thought. "How long are you going to avoid him?"

"As long as it takes for him to stop pestering me." He grumped, and walked away, leaving her standing in confusion. It was time to bite the bullet, so to speak. Rounding the corner once again, he strode purposefully to his office door. Roy smiled, trying to seem as friendly as possible while also being huddled in on himself for warmth. "What is it I can do for you, today, Sir?" Roy said nothing, but only waited for Ed to pull the key from his pocket and unlock the door. The lock sprung with a click, and he turned the knob, pulling the door outward. This only served to reinforce his idea that his office had been a closet. Only the closets had doors that opened out. Ed would have closed the door, but Roy wedged himself in behind him. "Sure. Come right on in." He knew his voice was sarcastic, but it was really all he could do to keep from screaming.

Roy just wouldn't let up. After they'd gotten his office repaired, and he was re-installed there, Roy made twice—and sometimes thrice—daily trips down the stairs and through the winding halls to see him. Usually, it was just an excuse to shirk paperwork. Sometimes it was on official business. Other times, he would just barge in unannounced with a stupid comment that could have been easier delivered via the telephone. What would it be today? Honestly, Ed did not have time to get into a stupid argument over semantics, alchemy, or the color of the sky outside of his nonexistent window. There was work to be done.

He shoved himself past books that were piled in the tiny entryway, and squeezed toward his desk. As he sat in his chair, he pulled the string overhead for the light. The small fixture gave the room little light, which was why he also flipped on the desk lamp. Provided with a moderate amount of illumination, he could easily see how awkward it was for someone Roy's size to be in such a small space. After nearly overturning a pile of papers, Roy plunked down on the little stool that was the only other seating in the room. He was shivering. "Cold as a witch's tit," he grumbled, shoving his hands under his arms.

"Sir," Ed began, but Roy quickly cut him off.

"Ed, for the _last_ time, if you don't call me by my name—at least when we're alone—I'm going to have to kick your sorry ass." He looked as if he might actually mean it, but Ed snorted.

"That would mean you'd need the use of _both_ your hands, _Sir_." It was actually rather fun watching how his commanding officer was slowly unraveling at the edges. Havoc said that Riza had threatened him on several occasions, and he had also mentioned something about a visit from Al that left Roy rather pale and silent for an entire day. His brother was mum on the subject, but it was apparent that Roy was in imminent peril, and he knew it. "I have research to do, so if you don't mind…"

Roy slumped in his seat, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. "Goddamn it, you pig-headed son of a bitch..." Ed blinked, startled by the profanity. He'd never heard Roy so much as slip up in his grammar, and now he was letting out strings of profanity that Envy would have been proud of. "I'm _trying_, you know."

Ed's lips compressed as he stared at Roy, who was looking rather pitiful and angry at the same time. "You should _stop_, then. Nothing you do is going to make me like you any better than I do now." He'd tried everything. Food, a few books, asking him questions on alchemy issues that he wasn't sure on…none of them moved him. He wasn't some damned woman to be bribed, and the sooner Roy figured that out, the sooner he'd leave him the hell alone.

"Then how do I make it out of the doghouse, if not by bribery?" Ed's eyes widened in surprise until he realized he'd spoken aloud. Another bit of insight hit him with the force of a freight train, and it did not sit well with him at all. They sounded like…he looked at Roy, examining the man's face. There was something odd in his eyes, but Ed really couldn't say he knew what it was. If were able, he would have backed away from him. But since the room was rather small, and his back was already against a wall, Ed settled for crossing his arms over his chest.

* * *

Roy had _had_ it. Yes, he could admit that he'd been an idiot, a heel, a completely and utterly despicable human being. But hadn't he learned his lesson? He'd done nothing but be nice to Ed for the past three weeks, and yet all he got in return was this? Not that he'd expected it to be easy, but this was absolutely infantile. Now, Ed was looking at him as if he'd grown an extra head. If nothing could ever change, then why was he even doing this? "Fine, Ed. You want to be a pissy little brat…then I'll let you." He stood up and pulled his coat tighter around himself so that he wouldn't upset any of Edward's books. "But let me just say this before I leave, okay?"

The crease between Ed's eyebrows deepened. "Speak, and be done with it."

Roy swallowed. How was he supposed to say it? He had phrased similar statements in several different ways, but this wasn't exactly the same thing. If he told him the truth, the _full_ truth, would he flip his lid and break more bones? It was simply a chance he was going to have to take, since he wasn't exactly in a space that would allow him to defend himself, and deception was not in the option list. "I miss having you around."

Ed sat motionless as Roy turned to exit the tiny office, as if he'd been flash-frozen. Roy felt strange, as if his face was on fire, and yet the rest of him was like a block of ice. He turned the knob on the door and flung it open, only to have it stop. When he pushed his head out of the crack, he found a very guilty-looking Jean Havoc staring back at him. "General…I can—"

In a tight, monotonic voice, Roy cut him off. "Explanations are not only unnecessary, but they are also unwanted. Please move, before I decide to incinerate the hallway." The eavesdropper backpedaled quickly, and Roy walked calmly back to the stairs. He'd said it, and it left this…_odd_ feeling in his stomach. He wasn't sure about it. Yes, he missed having Edward around. And it wasn't just the arguments, or the way he was so efficient with whatever paperwork he might be assigned. Over the past three weeks, with Ed avoiding the hell out of him, he'd realized how much he looked forward to their little clashes. Maybe he thrived on conflict. Maybe, he liked a challenge. Or maybe he hated how empty his office felt when the door wasn't being slammed open, with Edward framed in the doorway.

Up the single flight of stairs, he thought about what the hell that might mean. He knew that he'd been having a pretty rough few years—they all had—but was he so hopeless that he needed to go chasing after someone that hated him, just to have a friendly talk? Would that ever be possible again? When he reached the door to the office, he put his good hand on the knob. Roy did not feel like going back to work. In fact, he felt a lot like not doing _anything_ for the rest of the day. Therefore, he turned on his heel and went right back down the stairs. He made his way through the small service hallways to the motor pool and got in his car. The only decision left to make was whether he would go home, or to the bar.

* * *

Stunned, and completely without speech, Ed stared at the empty doorway. Had he really just…the room began to feel warm, and Ed pulled off his coat. He glanced at the two-foot-thick stack of books on his desk. The new research he was doing was necessary, and those books had some great information on partial biological transmutation. It wasn't something that could re-attach and reanimate dead tissues, but if it went as he theorized, this sort of thing might actually be able to produce a new limb for amputees. _Poor Winry,_ he thought, _she'll lose customers._

But his research suddenly took a back seat when he recalled the way Roy's face had begun to look rather red. He was blushing? Or was he just trying to hold in his laughter? If he was being screwed with again, he was going to personally make sure that Roy Mustang needed an entire _body_ cast. But what if he wasn't? What if he…meant what he said? Ed began to doubt himself. Though he was far from rationalizing excuses for what Roy had done, he was starting to wonder.

_I didn't mean it…_

Roy's words came back to him, slithering in like traitorous snakes. They clamped down on his resolve, and began to squeeze.

_I thought you were stronger than that…_

Had he overreacted? No. That was not even a question. Ed had been completely justified in breaking bones. Roy had even said so. _That's another thing,_ he thought, a puzzled expression coming over his face, _I'd never have guessed he would **say** he deserved it._ It was true. Ed had always thought Roy was the most self-centered human being on the planet, with the possible exception of Dante. He looked at the books again, wishing he could concentrate long enough to perhaps read one. But as fate would have it, Ed was completely unable to fix his mind on anything that did not involve what had happened less than five minutes prior.

* * *

Jean Havoc leaned back in his chair, squinting at another form. He was going to go blind at this rate. "Havoc," he heard from about ten feet away. Looking up, he saw Ed. The young man looked annoyed and embarrassed. He had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his overcoat, on account of the still-freezing temperatures inside the building. "Is the General in?"

Havoc's mouth opened, but he was cut off by Riza. "I followed him as far as the motor pool. He left and didn't tell anyone where he was going." His head jerked to the right and up. She looked down at him coolly, as if it were completely normal for her to tail their commanding officer. _Well, now that I think about it, he probably needs to be followed half of the time. _As long as they didn't have to get him out of city lockup again, everything should be fine. After all, he still hadn't paid Fuery back for his bail from last time.

* * *

Ed stood on a freezing street corner. Ten minutes ago, he had passed a shop with an alcohol thermometer out front. The damned thing had read 15°F. Since ten forty-five in the morning, he had been pounding the pavement, looking for Roy, and right now, Ed was ready to rip the man limb from limb. A small voice in the back of his head told him that he'd have to find the bastard before he could do any such thing. First, he'd walked three miles to Roy's house. Ed had broken in, so he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was not home. When he called the office, Havoc had suggested checking bars.

So since 11:30 am, Ed had been leading winding trails through streets between Headquarters and the neighborhood that Roy lived in, with no success. In a few places, they said that they knew who Roy was, but that he had not been in for weeks. The further from Roy's house he got, the less luck he had. If he had thought that there was _anything_ else he might be able to concentrate on right now, Ed would most certainly be doing that, even if it was giving Al a haircut. Roy Mustang had driven him to distraction, almost literally. He was three blocks from Headquarters, and there was only one bar left. He glanced at the clock in the book shop across the street, just as the street light changed to 'walk'. It was now 2:21 pm.

If Roy wasn't dead, he would be soon, because Ed was tired, cold, and cranky, not to mention that he hadn't eaten since that one boiled egg for breakfast. He stepped out into the crosswalk, and started across the street. This was turning out to be one shitty day. When he made it to the opposite curb, Ed was sure he felt the beginnings of snow. "Perfect. Just perfect." Halfway down the next block, it began to snow in earnest, with fat flakes sticking to every surface. Now he wished he'd worn that stupid uniform hat. His hair was going to be soaked, and he'd get sick, and then Al would fuss, like an old mother hen. The crease between his eyebrows grew as his mood slipped into new depths.

He turned the corner, and saw the place. The bricks of the five-story building were discolored with age, and only the bottom floor looked as if it were occupied. A large plate-glass window showed the bar-room. It was too far away to get a good look at the place, but Ed decided he was going to go in anyway. Even if it were deserted, they would at least have something to warm his insides.

* * *

Marvin Gerard Carson looked down to the end of the bar. He got military personnel in his place of business pretty regularly, but it was usually the lower-ranked officers and enlisted men. As he looked at his one and only patron, he took in the rank once again. This guy was a General. And when he took off his overcoat, Marvin caught a glimpse of watch chain, marking the General as a State Alchemist, as well. Officers like him usually frequented the posh establishments that were further downtown. But he wasn't going to complain. The man had been nursing drinks since right around half-past ten, and he didn't drink cheap stuff.

The little bell above the door gave its familiar chime, and he looked over to see what other sad soul decided to come in before it was rightfully quitting time. This new arrival looked to be about five feet and seven inches tall, and appeared to be female. She looked as if she were freezing to death, from what Marvin saw. Snow dusted the shoulders of a dark brown wool overcoat, which white-gloved hands quickly brushed away. She gathered a thick braid over her shoulder and let it out, shaking snow from hair the color of hammered gold. _If I were twenty years younger…_He thought wistfully.

A choking noise came from the end of the bar, and Marvin looked back to his General. Slack-jawed, he was staring at the woman that had just walked in. Not that it was difficult to do. She was quite the looker. Giving a little chuckle, Marvin turned back to the woman that had just walked in, intent on greeting her as he always did to new customers. His voice came out in a sound that closely resembled the noise the General made. _That's no woman…_

The new arrival had just unbuttoned that dark coat, and was now slipping it off. Not only was she _not_ a she, but 'she' was also a Major. _And I'll be damned, but another alchemist._ Now that he looked at him, the guy couldn't be more than twenty-two, and seemed a little short. The kid walked directly up to the bar. After pulling a few bills out, he slapped them down on the counter and said, "A double of whatever best takes the edge off this chill." Marvin nodded, moving to pour a double of brandy. When he set it down in front of the kid, he was told to keep the change. Looking down, he noticed that there was enough money sitting on his bar to buy everything behind it. "For just in case."

Before he could ask what the kid meant, he found out. Brandy in hand, the blond man walked up to where the General sat.

* * *

Roy watched in horrified fascination as Ed approached. Nose and cheeks a dark pink, he looked as if he'd spent hours in the cold. It was good then, Roy supposed, that the younger man was having a drink. Ed also looked less than happy. His hair was loose, since he'd just shaken the snow out of it, and he had his coat over one arm. "General Mustang," he began, but stopped. Taking a moment to sip at his brandy, Ed fixed those strangely-colored eyes on him. He cleared his throat. "Roy." It was odd hearing his name come out of Ed's mouth now. He simply sat staring for another few seconds, causing Ed's irritation to rise further. "Are you deaf? Or stupid?"

Though he opened his mouth, one fractional rise in Ed's right eyebrow stopped any reply he might have made. Roy wasn't altogether sure that he could have spoken coherently, even if he tried. His mind was pretty muddled by all of the Scotch he'd been drinking. All he really knew was that Ed was looking at him in a way that did not bode well. "Why don't we go sit in that booth over there?" The younger man asked suddenly, pointing at the rear-most of the seating areas. "It'll be more comfortable than letting our butts go numb on bar stools. Before he turned to walk away, he looked at the bartender while raising his glass. "I'll do this again as soon as I'm done."

Ed walked slowly to the back of the bar, sipping his drink the whole way, and Roy had to wonder at the kid's motive for following him here. Speaking of which, how had he found him? This was far from being one of his habitual watering holes, so he'd thought that no one would find him here. It was sort of like hiding in plain sight, since Headquarters was less than two blocks away, but it was also a relatively safe gamble. Or at least that's what Roy thought. What he had not taken into account was that if Ed wanted to bust his chops for anything, he would find him no matter _where_ he hid.

Sliding off of the stool so that he could follow Ed proved to be a bit more difficult than he had anticipated. Since he had not moved from his spot at the bar for a few hours, Roy felt the full force of all of the alcohol he'd consumed. One hand gripped the bar to steady himself, while the other held his drink. Glancing toward the back of the bar, he saw that Ed was already seated and watching him calmly. While he was grateful for the lack of laughter, he was sure it would have been nicer if he could have helped out a bit. But as it was, Roy eventually wobbled his way back to the booth in question, seeing upon arrival that Ed looked rather amused.

He slumped into the booth, plunking his drink down on the table. "So, what's got your panties in a wad, Edward?"

The corners of Ed's mouth turned down. He wasn't happy with Roy, it appeared. When was he _ever _happy where his commanding officer was concerned? Roy was pretty sure that the only emotion he held toward him—except maybe annoyance—was anger. And one couldn't very well be happy if he was angry. In any event, he waited for the axe to fall. "I think we need to talk, Roy."

_There it goes…_

Or maybe it was more of a guillotine?

* * *

**A/N:** Review.

A note on canon and accuracy: I'm not exactly sure what it was that Trisha Elric died of. Though I've seen the Anime, I have only gotten through 1 volume of the Manga, so if there's any detail that I've missed on that account, please forgive me. For the purposes of this story, Trisha died of cancer. Also, where age is concerned, I'm basing age off of Edward, who is 20. All other ages should be adjusted accordingly in your minds, to avoid that increasingly pesky confusion over child pron.


	4. IV: Decision

**A/N:** Okay. Now here's chapter 4. It's not exactly high on the action, but it did work out quite nicely. You'll get a taste of how annoyed Ed is, and hopefully you'll warm up to Roy the way I have. He really is trying to redeem himself. Oh. It amused me when someone called me on not understanding how cold some places are...Honestly, fifteen degrees Fahrenheit is pretty cold, seeing as how thirty-two degrees is the freezing point of water. Because really, I'm from the sub-tropics, and if we have fifteen-degree weather, people are walking around bundled up like there's a blizzard outside. Anyway, just chalk it up to me being from the Southern United States, and having never been around snow in great quantities. Read on, and have fun!

**Warnings:**

**FL--**Foul Language

**S-ai--**Mild Shounen-ai

**Title:** Demon In the Design (or… A Good Idea At the Time)

**Series:** Full Metal Alchemist

**Pair:** Roy/Ed

**Begun:** November 3, 2008

**Complete: **

**Summary:** Prank wars never end well. Design, Deception, Denial and Decision take Roy Mustang to an unexpected Destination.

* * *

**IV: Decision**

Roy Mustang felt a strange sensation that was, for the most part, quite rare for him. As he sat across the table from a man some years younger than himself, and not a few inches shorter, he felt a stab of fear in his guts. It must have been the way Edward's eyes were pinning him where he sat; for once in his life, he knew there was nowhere to run, and certainly nowhere to hide. All he could do was sit there. And in fact, sitting was all they did for an agonizingly long moment. He waited for Edward to speak, but for what seemed like a week and a half, those thin lips remained closed in what looked like a pensive frown. When the younger man's only move was to raise his glass once again, sipping the dark brown liquid that was quickly bringing normal coloration back to his face, Roy figured that it would be up to him to actually get the conversation rolling.

God help him.

But, whether it be the alcohol or the fact that his foot seemed to be permanently lodged in the back of his throat, he said, "You followed _me_, shrimp. I'm not going to start this thing going if you're the one that wants to talk."

Very suddenly, and with no warning at all, Roy felt something very sharp at his neck. Apparently, while he was distracted with his own verbal stupidity, Ed had clasped his hands around the glass that had come to rest on the table, his fingers touching. Now, the large snifter had transformed into a long, thin, razor-edged knife, which still held brandy in its core, oddly enough. Ed's eyes were sharper than the improvised weapon, however. They flashed warning, even as he said in an almost sweet tone, "Keep talking, Roy. I _dare_ you."

For half a second, he was unsure as to the cause of this reaction. Was it because he insulted the younger alchemist's stature, or the greater offense of pretending to have a terminal illness? Of course, he did eventually realize that it was both, but he didn't apologize. After all, Edward was still no less than five inches shorter than he was, and there was no helping it. Not that he ever complained about a height difference. It made it so much easier for him to feel as if he had the upper hand with Ed, and it was very difficult to get one-up on him. That, and he'd already apologized numerous times for playing his former joke on Ed. Rather than taking back his words, or saying anything more along the same vein, he slowly raised his hands into a defensive posture and said, "Shutting up."

Edward sucked a tooth, considering him for a moment before he changed his glass back to its original form. He sighed after taking another sip. "You _really_ can't stop pushing my buttons, can you?"

Roy waited less than half a second before replying with a question of his own. "If I answer, will you slit my throat?" Somehow, he sounded much more smart-assed than he had intended, but Ed didn't move to kill him, so he took it as a positive sign.

Rather than transmuting anything, Ed merely shrugged. "You wouldn't die, even if I killed you. I know the answer anyway." This obviously meant that Roy couldn't stop poking fun at him if he tried. Ed sipped at his drink, and then appeared to think for a second before swallowing down the rest of it. Raising a hand at the bartender, Ed signaled for another. "I've been looking for you all morning." One white-gloved hand pulled at his watch chain, and he checked the time. "And apparently into the afternoon, as well. You _would_ go to the closest bar just to throw me off."

Roy half-shrugged, sipping at his own drink. "It was the closest, yes. And it isn't where I usually go. But I should have known that you'd find me eventually." He watched Ed, trying to gauge his mood, and his reaction to this statement. There was little he could read in the expression that golden eyes held. The only thing he knew for sure was that whatever happened, he wasn't going to get murdered for it. Shunned, perhaps, and most certainly humiliated, but not killed. He'd dealt with humiliation, and if he was shunned, he would deal with that, too. "So," he went on, "I repeat—albeit in a hopefully less crude way—what is it that you want to talk about?"

* * *

Ed was becoming pleasantly warm inside. His body was slowly relaxing into the leather of the seat beneath him, and the chill that had seemed to go all the way to the bone was seeping out of him slowly. Roy seemed rather deflated, which was in a way satisfying, but also infuriating. Had he been his normal arrogant self, Ed would have had no problem drilling him with questions that he'd rehearsed in his mind. He could have pinned him to the booth with whatever was handy, forcing him to talk if necessary. But…

Roy just sat there, a little more than half-drunk, his uniform jacket unfastened and hair disheveled. _Why does he have to look so pitiful?_ It was what he deserved, surely. But this reasoning by Ed's already overtaxed brain was getting old. Yes, he deserved to feel stupid, even crappy for what he'd done. However, what Ed needed right now was honest information, and how likely was he to get that when Roy was in this kind of mood? The man would probably to tell him whatever he thought Ed wanted to hear, just to avoid being maimed.

No, he needed Roy to be his normal self, or at least some decent facsimile thereof. Either that, or he needed more alcohol. This was most likely to take a while, and he had little patience at the moment. Something in the back of his head told him that he shouldn't expect his capacity for putting up with bullshit to increase with direct proportionality to his intake of brandy…

But then again, at the moment he didn't really give a shit.

He only really had one question. Well, there were several, but it all just spawned from one thing. Since half-past ten in the morning, he'd been confused. Confusion turned to frustration when he found out Roy wasn't in his office. Frustration became irritation when he wasn't in the building. Irritation morphed into anger at the second he did not find him at his house. And anger became a slow-burning rage by the time he'd checked twelve bars, with ten more to go, traversing no less than fifty city blocks, and stoking the coals the entire way. Right now, he was pretty sure he should have steam coming out of his ears.

But it all damned-well fizzled out like a match dropped into a glass of water…all because of the way those God-forsaken eyes stared at him. They looked scared, and disappointed. Was he sad that he'd been found? Well, he had been hiding, but now that was simply a moot point. Maybe Ed's question had a lot to do with why Roy had been hiding? There was only one way to find out.

"What did you mean when you said you miss having me around?" He let it out in a rush, feeling slightly breathless, as though he had been holding the question on the tip of his tongue for far too long. He probably had, at that. Surprise entered Roy's eyes, and they widened for a moment before looking away from him completely. He waited a full minute before rapping on the table with his auto-mail hand. "Hey, General Bastard…you awake?"

For an instant, Roy seemed to freeze. For a moment, time itself seemed to slow. Because it seemed far too slowly that the man looked up at him again, all pretense falling away, whatever mask of impassivity that usually hung on his face now gone. Ed didn't dare to breathe. This was something he had never—

Time started moving at its normal speed just a bit too suddenly for his taste. It was too soon after that look began that Roy answered him. "I meant just that. I miss…I like having you around. It's…nice. Even if it was wrong—for the wrong reasons, I mean—even if it was wrong, it was nice to feel like you might not hate me. Even if it was fake." Roy suddenly coughed, his voice having started to go gravelly with emotion. Ed still wasn't breathing. How could he, after something like this? He wasn't sure he would ever be able to draw in another lung-full of air again if Roy said things like that, looking at him the way he was.

_But,_ his mind supplied, _It wasn't fake. _He wondered what it was that he was thinking. Of course the situation had been faked. Roy was lying through his teeth, the whole day. Nothing he had said was true, up until the point when he'd confessed about his 'illness'. _No. **You** weren't lying. You didn't hate him, did you?_ Shit. Now he felt stupid. Did he ever truly hate Roy? No…

Ed could admit to himself that while he had disliked Roy thoroughly, he had never shown himself to be worthy of real hatred. He was a self-serving, egotistical, megalomaniacal, cold bastard, but he wasn't a horrible person, not _deep_ down. Everything he did served some greater purpose. Ed learned of these things after the fact, but all of his scheming to get into the Presidency was not so that he could make Lieutenant Hawkeye and the rest of the ladies in the military change their uniforms to include mini-skirts. He had wanted to change Amestris from the top down.

Of course, his strategies often left people like Edward feeling used and abused, so he had allowed himself to believe he'd hated him. So, Ed was now so confused that he didn't know which way was up.

A hand grasped his shoulder, shaking him hard, and he gasped. The air felt so good that he nearly fell from his seat. "Ed, are you okay?" He blinked, trying to clear his thoughts as his eyes re-focused. Roy was still holding his shoulder from across the table, looking very concerned. "You just kind of spaced out there for a minute, Ed. And you stopped breathing." Roy was frowning, now.

Ed shook him off just as the bartender delivered his second drink. When the man had gone, he went over the list of questions that sprouted off of the first one. Half of them were now stricken from the list, which was good in a way, but now more were cropping up. Such as, "Then what the hell does this mean?"

* * *

Roy felt like ice had developed in his stomach. What did it mean…

What did it mean that he didn't want this man to hate him?

What did it mean that he missed the attention he got, even if it was at the end of a fist?

What did it _ever_ mean?

Well, it _could_ mean several things. Roy Mustang hoped that once he had sorted those things out in his head, he could give Ed a satisfactory answer. But for now, he just said in a quiet voice, "It means…It means I don't see you as a pissy brat. That I want to know all of the different sides of you I don't get to see. I want to see something other than anger in your eyes when you look at me, Ed." That was most of the things it meant, but not all. He couldn't make himself say the other ones out loud. The ones he'd let out were embarrassing enough.

Ed was holding his glass tightly now. His eyes were wide with shock, and his mouth had fallen open. Was it really so surprising? A vision of himself as a small boy suddenly appeared in his mind. He had been seven years old. There was a girl in his second-grade class that had these eyes…they were like a dark, shaded pond in the forest. Deep green and bottomless. He had tormented her until she had cried. Why on earth was he thinking of this now of all times? The burning feeling from before was back, suffusing his face and this time, his ears as well.

It took a very deep breath for him to steady his mind. He put all of the contrition he could into his voice as he said, "Truce?"

There was a long silence, during which Edward watched him. He couldn't tell how the younger man was taking it, really. It was as if what he'd said hadn't started to sink in yet. Then, after about fifteen seconds, Ed lifted his glass to his lips and took a long sip. After setting it down carefully, he took a deep breath. "You…" he began, but trailed off, "You mean you…you like me?" Ed gave a small frown at his words, seeming to realize how infantile he sounded. Roy's mouth curved upward into a tiny smile. It was slightly amusing how when it really mattered, Ed had difficulty in expressing himself.

He leaned on one of his elbows, pushing his glass away and resting his chin on his hand. "I've never _dis_liked you, if that's what you mean."

One shake of Ed's head sent blonde hair tumbling into his eyes and over his shoulders. The image struck Roy as something he'd like to remember. It was ruined, however, when Ed developed a familiar furrow between his eyebrows. He was becoming annoyed. "That's not what I meant, Roy. Why can't you give me a straight answer?"

Roy sighed. "What do you want me to say, Ed?" Now he was getting exasperated, too, because he didn't know what Ed wanted from him.

"I want you to tell me the truth," he said irritably, "because there's something you aren't saying." For once, Roy cursed the way Ed could be so damned perceptive at times. If he told him what he had been holding back, then he was probably going to get smacked. Worst case scenario, Ed would smack him upside the head and laugh at him. Or he'd just leave. Either one would be bad. So Roy was faced with another choice. Should he say out loud things that he never thought he would, risk getting beaten down, and possibly scorned in a public place? One look into Ed's eyes told him that this would be a lose-lose situation for him.

If he didn't talk, he'd get smacked. If he did talk, he'd probably get smacked anyway. So, in essence, he realized that he didn't have anything left to lose. "No, I never disliked you, Ed. I thought you were cheeky and in need of discipline when we met eight years ago, but beyond that, I've always had a great amount of respect for you." Ed opened his mouth, but Roy raised his bad hand in a silencing motion. "Drink your brandy, Edward. You wanted me to tell the truth, and now I am. Do you want me to stop?"

"No." Ed's voice was almost sullen, and Roy could detect something of a pouting projection in the bottom lip there. He was very glad he'd stopped drinking. It was, in his somewhat inebriated state, rather cute.

Nodding, Roy continued. "I thought you were hell-bent on making my life as miserable as you could, so I set out to return the favor. That's what it seemed like to me. But after a while, it got really boring when you'd go away. I'd gotten used to when you'd storm the office with some tantrum or another. And don't look at me like that, Ed. You've always had an awful temper." Now, he leaned on both elbows, his hands flat on the tabletop. His eyes were fastened firmly to the hangnail on his left index finger. "So I guess I liked the attention. Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment or something. I don't know."

* * *

Ed wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry. It wasn't said in so many words, but he was pretty sure that his commanding officer had just told him that he…but was that really what it was? "So," Ed said slowly after a few seconds, "So you…this _interest_ you have…would you say that it's platonic?" Roy still wasn't looking at him, the consternation on his fair features only growing more profound, even as his face reddened. Then there was the way he'd been looking at him a few minutes ago. It all added up to one thing. "Okay…so, not so platonic."

The primary question now was, what to do? Ed didn't know how he felt about Roy having a romantic interest in him. He himself had never really thought about it. Never having time for a girlfriend—or a boyfriend, for that matter—Ed had given little effort to pondering his own need for companionship. Most of his time was taken up with his work, and the rest was swallowed up with…more work. So what to do…

"Ed," Roy said in a very tight, uncomfortable-sounding voice, "if you don't say something soon, I'm probably going to have to leave." He was huddled in on himself now, the fingers of his good hand twined in shaggy, dark hair so tightly that Ed was sure that it was painful. It was as if he were bracing himself for sudden violence. Something in that posture made Ed panic. What in the hell was going on in Roy's head right now?

* * *

Why didn't Ed just say it? It would at least bring an end to this. For a week, he'd just been trying to get through having Ed in his presence until the younger man's office was repaired. But after that time, he spent every moment that he wasn't signing papers trying to come up with ways to make Ed stop hating him. At first, he thought it was just because he was starved for attention. But that wasn't true. He had friends in his subordinates, even if their friendship did seem like an obligation at times. With Edward Elric, however, any friendship that might develop would be real, and completely unforced. He'd known that. But it hadn't happened, so he settled for bugging the hell out of him.

Something that Riza said was actually what caused him to realize what his behavior had been. She said that he was acting like the boys in the schoolyard who had pulled her hair as a child, because they could not figure out how to tell her that they admired her. Now that he looked back, he wanted to beat his head against the table. He felt so…stupid. His stomach started to twist, feeling hot and cold at the same time. He had felt something like this before, after stepping off of a carnival ride when he was twelve.

Discretion being the better part of valor, and since Edward seemed not inclined to answer him any time soon, he stood shakily, intent upon beating a tactical retreat. Without another word, he took up his coat and shrugged it on. He couldn't take this. Not today. That feeling in his stomach only got worse the closer to the door he was, but he ignored it. Roy simply did not want to look at Ed right now. Not with the way he knew the younger man was thinking.

* * *

Ed blinked. Roy just got up and started walking toward the door. Honestly, he'd been _trying_ to think of what to say, but nothing would come. Now he wasn't sure what to do. Should he go after him? Then, he realized that Roy had driven here, and Ed shot up from his seat. He couldn't let Roy get behind the wheel of a car while he was drunk. The bartender called after him about Roy's tab, but he told the man to take it out of the money he'd already given him. The next thing he knew, he was in the street, looking around for Roy. Luckily, he found him with relative ease. He was searching for his keys in the pockets of his coat. Ed approached him with a brisk stride.

"Roy," he said firmly, "Give me your keys." The taller man froze at the sound of his voice, and then turned his face to look at Ed. Dark eyes looked stricken, and Ed was surprised to find that it was difficult to keep his gaze as determined as usual. Though Roy did not move to hand Ed the keys, he did not try to leave, either. Ed repeated himself. "Give me your keys, Roy."

"Where's your coat?" Roy asked suddenly, his eyes straying to Ed's shoulders.

Ed's brain hurt with the abrupt randomness of the question, but it only took half a second to get back on track. "I don't give a damn where my _coat_ is. Gimme your _keys_, you drunk son of a bitch." Hurt flashed in Roy's eyes at the insult, and he was almost sure that there was wetness on his eyelashes. "Oh, hell…" Ed didn't know why he was doing this, but he stepped closer, and put a hand on Roy's shoulder. "I didn't mean that." He sighed and tried to explain. "You're just so _frustrating…_but I don't want you to drive home like you are. It's dangerous." Roy nodded morosely, and finished rifling through his pockets. Ed took the keys when they were offered, and unlocked the door to the passenger side first. When Roy was safely inside and strapped in, Ed slid in on the driver's side. "Try to relax."

That was more for his benefit than for Roy's. It had been more than a year since he had occasion to drive a car, and it took a few moments to remember everything necessary to perform the task. He drove slowly, avoiding main thoroughfares since he'd been drinking as well, but they eventually got to Roy's house. Once in the drive, Ed pulled up to the house and let himself out of the car. Roy got out as well, and they both walked to the door of the house. Ed unlocked the place, turned on the lights, and watched Roy as he entered. "Okay. Now you're home safe. I'm going." Only he didn't. Ed stood there, seemingly unable to move under the watchful eyes not so far away.

He felt uncomfortable. This was weird. Roy was standing in the front entry hall of his house, staring at Ed like he'd never seen him before. Or was it like he'd never see him again? Either way, Ed felt his face start turning red. His feet began to shift as he stood in front of the open door, and he suddenly realized that he shouldn't have left his coat in the bar. It was freezing outside. Roy did not say anything. Ed continued to fidget.

"Close the door," Roy finally said, before he turned and walked deeper into the house. Ed was surprised to find himself doing as he was told. He supposed that he could have Roy drop him off at home when he sobered up. In the mean time, he could make sure Roy actually _did_ sober up, and maybe set him straight on a few things. He followed an apparently depressed Roy into the kitchen, where he watched the other man root through the refrigerator. Several items ended up on the counter, among them sliced deli meat, half of a purple onion, and some hot mustard. "Are you hungry, Ed?"

It was difficult to deny that he was hungry, so he didn't even try. A silence settled over them, broken only by Roy's movements around the room as he opened a can of tomato soup, and began heating it on the stove. Ed felt odd. Why was he still here? He told himself it was because he needed a ride home, but that sounded lame, even to him. If he were pressed, he could have taken a taxi. But he hadn't. And that mystery began turning over in his mind with a deadly regularity that was just a little frightening.

Twenty minutes later, they were seated at the little kitchen table. Two bowls of soup, a ham sandwich each, and a couple of steaming mugs of tea filled the space with delicious smells. For a moment, he looked at Roy, who had not spared him a glance since they got into the kitchen. "Thank you." He said simply, taking up his cup. Roy said nothing.

When his sandwich was gone, as well as half of his soup, he rose to make more tea. Roy seemed absorbed in his soup, but had not eaten more than a few bites. The tea in his cup had grown cold, as well, barely touched. Ed wanted to roll his eyes. Was he a grown man, or a lovesick schoolgirl? With a minimal sigh, he gathered the older man's cup along with his own, and went to the stove. As he took up the kettle, he began to speak. "You didn't let me answer you," Ed walked over to the sink, adding water from the tap through the spout. Though he did not turn around, he knew that Roy was watching him now.

The kettle was on the stove and heating up before he continued. "I wasn't going to toss you out on your ass, you know." Ed rested his elbows on the island in the middle of the kitchen, peering across the room at Roy. There was a rather dumbfounded look on his face which Ed found to be somewhat funny, but oddly endearing. "While I was tooling around the city looking for you," he sent a momentarily sharp look at Roy at this, "I was highly annoyed. There were any number of things I _could_ have been doing, other than freezing the family jewels looking for _your_ dumb ass. Of course I was pissed off. But there was this little nagging voice in the back of my head that told me I wouldn't be able to do _any _of those important things until I figured out what the hell you meant by saying you 'miss' having me around."

Roy's face retained that same look of confusion for a few moments, so Ed took the opportunity to plow right on before the older man found his brain again and started talking out of his ass. "So I find you, in the last place I would have thought of to look. And just when I think things are getting sorted out, you up and _walk out._ I wasn't going to just leave you hanging; at least I didn't mean to. You just can't expect me to respond immediately when you drop a bomb like that in my lap." He got precious little reaction for this statement, since it probably seemed like an accusation.

Now he was starting to feel awkward, because it was coming to the meat of the issue, and Ed wasn't sure he was all too prepared to deal with it himself. He decided to suck it up, though, and went on. "And then there's the history we've got. It's hard, thinking of you in any kind of…romantic context." He could feel his face getting red again, and his mouth felt dry. Swallowing did no good, so he cleared his throat. "So...what I have to say isn't _entirely_ bad." Ed's eyes caught the way Roy relaxed very slightly, and that small light of hope that entered his expression. Now this was what could be called a crossroads. Ed was entirely capable of crushing that hope. And it would only take a laugh. One laugh, and he could walk out of the house.

He could do it. He knew he could. Ed could even see in his mind the way Roy would crumble in on himself. All of the strength would go out of him, and he'd slump in his chair. His face would fall, eyes becoming dull. But…something Roy had said a few weeks ago made him stop. _Just because I can,_ Ed thought,_ it doesn't mean I will._ While he was entirely capable of killing this man's spirit, Ed was not willing to do so. It was something he wouldn't do. Not ever. Roy was something constant in his life, and had been for the past eight years. There were few things that he could count on the way he could on Roy's smirk and sarcasm. Annoyance and all, he needed that constancy. He smiled a little, slightly unsure of what he was about to say. "It seems really strange to think of the two of us together, especially given…recent events, don't you agree?"

A very slight nod was the only answer he got, but it was good enough.

"So how about this: we get to know each other a bit better—as friends—and see where things go from there." There was a slow dawning on Roy's face now, something very different than anything he'd ever seen there before. His forehead relaxed, and the corners of his mouth drew up in an easy upward curve. It was a smile that went all the way up to very dark eyes, lending Roy a boyish look. Ed wasn't sure he'd ever seen him look so content. It was a nice smile, Ed thought, but it all went to Hell when a familiar sly grin spread Roy's lips even further.

"Does this mean I'm out of the doghouse?"

Ed could not help himself. His head dropped, smacking loudly against the granite countertop. When he spoke next, his voice was muffled by his arms, which were now covering his head. "Can it, Roy. I'm not in the mood." Roy said something in reply, but it was swallowed by the whistle of the kettle on the stove. Instead of asking what the Hell the man was talking about, Ed set about making them more tea. "I don't suppose that you'll stop being an exasperating bastard now, will you?"

He didn't even have to look to know that Roy was grinning like a Cheshire Cat. "Now, Edward," he heard from the vicinity of the table, "what fun would that be?"

* * *

**A/N:** Review.

A note on canon and accuracy: I'm not exactly sure what it was that Trisha Elric died of. Though I've seen the Anime, I have only gotten through 1 volume of the Manga, so if there's any detail that I've missed on that account, please forgive me. For the purposes of this story, Trisha died of cancer. Also, where age is concerned, I'm basing age off of Edward, who is 20. All other ages should be adjusted accordingly in your minds, to avoid that increasingly pesky confusion over child pron.


	5. V: Destination

**A/N:** Hm. I only got lukewarm response for that last chapter. Am I right in assuming that you all liked it better when Ed hated Roy? When we all thought that the General was the most horrible, evil, malicious creep to ever crawl from the deep, dark pits of Hell? Aw, come on. Roy's a good guy. And I'll prove it in this chapter. Once you're done reading, please look at the bottom note, as I have some more info there on the last chapter, which should be coming in a few days. Enjoy.

**Warnings:**

**FL--**Foul Language

**S-ai--**Shounen-ai

**Y--**Barely Yaoi

**Title:** Demon In the Design (or… A Good Idea At the Time)

**Series:** Full Metal Alchemist

**Pair:** Roy/Ed

**Begun:** November 3, 2008

**Complete: **

**Summary:** Prank wars never end well. Design, Deception, Denial and Decision take Roy Mustang to an unexpected Destination.

* * *

**V:** Destination

Roy Mustang was a selfish man. He was not above the use of mendacity. And at this point, he was ready to use every dirty trick in his formidable arsenal to achieve his goal. It had been three months since they had come to their agreement of friendship. They had eaten lunch together every day at work, and Roy had come to visit him a few times at home. While it was unclear how the younger of the Elric brothers felt about having him in the apartment after the debacle the previous year, he made no more threats. That was one less obstacle for him, but it was not to say that there were none. He had been more than patient; the embodiment of understanding. But there was still one rather large obstruction…

Edward sat across from him now, leaning back in his chair in a leisurely manner, the glass of brandy looking quite at home in his hand. Over the past month or so, this had been their nightly ritual. After they were done at Headquarters, they would meet at Roy's usual bar for a drink before going home. Every now and again, Alphonse would join them, but he never drank. It was his opinion that Al was just a little too tightly wound, and maybe a drink would do him good. There were a couple of other people he could name that might be able to use one, too. Al was highly protective of his older brother, and Roy knew the kid was smarter than he let anyone believe. That meant that Al knew precisely what Roy was up to. The question was, how come he had not done anything to stop it?

He watched as Ed rolled his shoulders, his white dress shirt moving and stretching over wiry muscles. Ed's head fell back, exposing his throat along with a bit of skin on his chest, since his shirt was undone by two buttons. Roy had to look away. "It's going to rain," he heard Ed say suddenly. His voice sounded tight, as if he were uncomfortable. And he supposed he might be, since Ed's shoulder always seemed to get sore when the weather changed. He looked at Ed again, and noticed that his glass was empty. There was a pinched look to the corners of his eyes, as well.

One glance out of the window told him that Ed was more than correct. Those clouds told of rain, and probably some hail, as well. "Well," Roy said, pushing his chair back from the table, "let's go home. I'll take you." He picked up his glass, emptying it. The Bourbon's pleasant sting traced down his throat. Ed nodded his agreement, saying that he'd rather not get caught in a hailstorm. They were nearly to the door when it started to come down, pea-sized and bouncing all over the cold ground. Ed's footsteps stopped behind him, and Roy looked over his shoulder. "You all right, Ed?"

The younger man's eyes widened slightly and he stood stock still. "Shit!" Ed cursed, not quite under his breath, He looked up at Roy with a very helpless expression. "It's Al's birthday."

Roy was surprised. "You forgot your brother's birthday?" He had not thought that such a thing was possible. However, the wheels in his head were beginning to turn, and he smiled, trying not to let it seem as devious as it really was. The aforementioned propensity for deception reared its delightful head again, giving him the most brilliant idea he had conceived in some time. This was going to be fun. "Don't worry, Ed." He grabbed the younger man by the wrist, walking out of the bar and then ran to the car. When he'd shoved the both of them in, he started the engine. "I think I might be able to save your ass."

* * *

Al sighed. So much for having a happy birthday. It was nearly eight in the evening, and his brother still was not home. For that matter, Ed had not even wished him a happy birthday. He scratched his cheek a little, relieving a small itch. The apartment was always so quiet when Ed wasn't home, and while he usually welcomed the stillness, it was only a reminder now of the fact that he was alone. He got up from the couch and went into his small bedroom to put on more comfortable clothing. On second thought, he would take a shower. It usually made him feel better.

* * *

First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye could hardly believe that she was doing this. She stood in front of the apartment building for a long moment, looking up at the sixth floor. Al was up there, probably moping. But he wouldn't be moping soon. In less than ten minutes, Alphonse would be wondering what was going on, and she was under orders not to tell him. She supposed it came with having an immature idiot for a commanding officer. Of all of Roy's hair-brained schemes, this one took the cake. Letting out a long breath, Riza entered the front doors.

_"It's for his birthday,"_ Roy had said, but Riza could tell there was something else. When she had asked, he had pretended not to know what she was talking about. That was all right, because she would find out soon enough, and then she could decide what she would do to him. The lobby was small, but tidy, and she had to step up to get onto the main floor. One hand went to her skirt, pulling a bit to make sure it did not get in the way.

* * *

Al sighed. The shower had helped quite a bit. He now stood in the middle of the bathroom, a towel snugly wrapped around his waist, and another over his head. Steam that smelled of lemons and lavender floated in vague ribbons around the room, and he inhaled deeply. He knew it was a sedative in the lavender that had calmed him, and the lemon that had cheered him slightly. The soap had been a gift from Winry on her last visit, because she said that she could not come for his birthday. She also told him that he looked stressed out.

Well, he supposed that it went with the territory. There were too many things to worry about. Especially when he thought of the General. He never could figure the man out, no matter how hard he tried. Roy had done something very mean to his brother, and Al had yet to forgive him. The strange thing was that Ed had. They were friends, it seemed. Al felt left out when the two of them started laughing at an apparent 'you had to be there' type of joke. And it was becoming glaringly obvious that Roy wanted something more than friendship from his brother, if the looks he had seen the General giving Ed were any indication.

How did he feel about that? The answer to that question was rather simple, he thought as he started drying his hair with the towel. _I don't like it. Not at all._

His thoughts were interrupted when there was a sudden knock on the door. It couldn't be his brother, since he had a key and would not have to knock. Maybe it was Roy. Al's eyes narrowed. He tossed the towel he'd been using on his hair to the floor, running a hand through his hair as he made his way toward the living room. It had been a while since he'd had the chance to have a chat with Roy, and he was ready to give the man a piece of his mind. _And maybe a bit of my fist…_His feet slapped on the wood of the floor, and he realized he was stomping. Mrs. Gibson downstairs was going to start banging on the ceiling soon, but he didn't care. He was angry.

When he got to the door, he threw the deadbolt and the chain before nearly ripping the door from its hinges, sending a hateful glare at the—

"Alphonse…"

He blinked several times, confused as to why Roy was so much shorter than he was supposed to be. Then, he took in blonde hair, light brown eyes, and as his eyes traveled downward…Al's brain caught up just in time so that he did not blatantly stare at Riza's breasts. She was wearing street clothes. Al registered a brown leather jacket and a dark blue skirt before he managed to speak. "Lieutenant!" he said in a tone that was very un-manly indeed, "What are you doing here?"

Riza averted her eyes discreetly from his near-naked state, and replied, "If I may suggest you dress yourself?"

Al looked down at himself. Instantly, his face flamed red. "Sorry!" he said hurriedly, "Come in and sit down. I'll put on some clothes…hehe."

* * *

He stood there for a long moment before he actually moved aside. Riza walked past him into the apartment, and seated herself on the couch. Al closed the door behind her and walked quickly—albeit rather stiffly—into the back of the apartment. She watched as his back disappeared around the corner of the hallway, then shook her head. That look before…what was it for? He seemed surprised to see her, yet he'd been angry. It might be that he had thought the General was at the door, which would make sense now that she knew what Roy had done.

Moments later, Al emerged from the back, clad in dark green corduroy pants and a pale blue button-down shirt. He hesitated for a moment before sitting down in a chair opposite Riza, but finally did so. "Sorry about that," he said, "I wasn't expecting you."

She waved a dismissive hand. "It's fine, Alphonse. But I've been sent to get you. Put on some shoes and grab your coat."

Al stared at her for a long moment, confused and utterly dumbfounded. "Why? Where are we going?"

With a very serious expression, Riza stood and said in a no-nonsense tone, "I am not at liberty to say." He did as he was told, now seeming to grow more concerned by the moment. If she knew Al at all—and she did—he was thinking that there was something drastically wrong with Edward, or that they had all got tangled up in some scheme or another. In a way, they had. Riza had heard that devious, calculating tone in Roy's voice when he'd called her.

* * *

"Fuery, are you done with the icing yet?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Good. Now go and put the cake on the coffee table and stand by. Falman, how is the punch coming?"

"Well spiked, Sir."

"Excellent. Breda!"

"Sir?"

"Where are the gifts set up?"

"Behind the couch, Sir."

"Make sure that everyone has contributed to this thing. We don't want Alphonse to feel like he's been forgotten. Where the hell is Havoc?!"

"Keeping watch at the windows, Sir. Just like you told me."

"Ed, how're the decorations?"

Roy came out of the pantry carrying armloads of snack food just then, and found everything in readiness. Ed was just putting the finishing touches on the decorations. He'd supplied the younger man with six reams of copier paper in various colors, and was currently hanging paper chains, ornaments, and banners proclaiming Alphonse's birthday. There were bags of confetti on the table, as well, which would be dumped over Al's head and sprayed all over the room. The best of Ed's creations, however, was one for which Roy had brought in a pan of water and half a bag of flour. It was a rather faithful likeness of Al, obviously the way Ed thought of him.

The paper and paste Al statue was just a little taller than Ed was himself, and had the teenager's shaggy hair. He'd made sure to dress the statue in a way that Al might, as well. The face of the paper Al was set in a wide smile, with very kind eyes. Roy smiled at it for a moment before turning his attention to where Ed was perched on the ladder. The string of green false lanterns was slipping out of the young man's fingers, and he couldn't quite reach the corner where he wanted to secure it. "Edward," he said as he set down the snacks, "Do you need _help_?"

Ed got a firm hold on the string once again, and cast a sharp glare at him over one shoulder. "No," he snapped, before stretching up onto tiptoe, causing the ladder to tremble. He affixed the string to the ceiling using a simple bit of alchemy, only re-forming a tiny bit of plaster into a hook from which he could hang it. "I'm a big boy now, Roy." He started climbing down the ladder, and Roy took a quick look around before going back to watching his subordinate. Ed was the only person still in uniform, but he'd long since discarded his jacket, and rolled up his sleeves. Roy could _see_ that Edward was a big boy. He'd grown quite a bit, after all. It was just when he sounded so sullen like that, it made Roy remember him when he was twelve. In a way it made him feel like a dirty old man for looking at Ed the way he was.

"Sir! A car is pulling into the drive!" Havoc yelled from over near the front windows, and for close to ten seconds, the living room was like an anthill. People ran this way and that, Breda yanking Ed off of the ladder and tossing him onto the couch, Ed yelling indignantly, and then settling down when the large man folded the ladder and went to put it in the kitchen. Fuery scurried over to the record player, readying the party music as others got into position. There was a knock at the door, and Roy walked to answer it. When the dark walnut panel swung inward, he saw a mildly annoyed Riza Hawkeye standing behind Al, who looked as if the sky had suddenly turned neon pink and there seemed no way to fix it.

"Come in, Alphonse," he said smoothly, stepping aside to let the guest of honor into the entry hall. "Just go on into the living room, please. I need a word with Riza before we…proceed." The boy looked confused, and not a little frightened as he walked past him. Riza looked like she wanted to smack him. He just shrugged and followed Al silently.

As Alphonse rounded the corner into the living room, shouts of "Surprise!" and "Happy Birthday!" rang out, surely startling the birthday boy. All of his subordinates, along with some of the junior alchemists and a few enlisted men that Al had become acquainted with were standing in the living room, along with Ed. It seemed that he was a bit overwhelmed. Roy pushed Al further into the room, where Edward was waiting with his larger-than-life sized statue and a mound of presents. "Come on, Alphonse," he said as he pushed, "we're having a party."

* * *

Ed watched as Al sat down on the couch. He looked around at everyone with a stunned expression, as if he couldn't believe what was happening. The candles on the cake before him flared to life, and Ed looked up, only to see Roy taking off his gloves. "It has practical uses," he explained shortly, before making a motion toward Al. The younger Elric looked at the flames, a soft sort of smile settling over his face. After a few seconds, he took a deep breath and blew out the candles.

After a few rounds of congratulations, Falman started doling out punch, and Shezka cut the cake. Al, of course, got the first piece. The face Al made when he tasted the punch was funny. His nose scrunched up, and the corners of his mouth turned down as he forced himself to swallow. "This has…vodka in it!"

Havoc clapped Al on the back and said jovially, "It's your birthday, kiddo. Live a little." After a few minutes of sipping tentatively at the red liquid in his clear plastic cup, Al apparently didn't find it to be too offensive. He took bites of cake, and talked with all of the other guests. Then, someone decided that it was time to dump the confetti Ed made…well, _everywhere._ When the whirlwind of tiny paper pieces settled, it looked as if everyone had gone out into a blizzard.

Al got up from the couch to get himself another cup of punch, since the one he had was filled with soggy confetti, and Roy took his place on the couch next to Ed, looking rather pleased with himself. His eyes followed Al across the room, and he smiled. "Looks like a success," he said, almost as if to himself. Ed thought it might be a peace offering, since Al had been a little less than receptive to the idea of Roy being friendly with him. Not that Ed could blame him. If someone had done to Al what Roy had to Ed, he'd have done a lot worse than threaten them.

But Ed had come to terms with Roy's personality, and as he watched him looking around at their handiwork, he couldn't help but feel glad that they had sorted things out. If they had still not been on good terms, he would not have had Roy to thank for getting his ass out of a sling where Al was concerned. Speaking of which, he hadn't actually done that yet. "Thanks, Roy," Ed said, truly grateful. "Al would never have let me live it down if I'd completely forgotten his birthday." The older man only waved it off, saying that he didn't mind, so long as Ed cleaned up all of the confetti and the rest of the mess. For a second or two, Ed wanted to yell at him and smack him on the head for suggesting that he do it all by himself, but then again, Roy had done him a big favor setting up the party in the first place. Grudgingly, he said, "Fine. But it's gonna take forever with just me cleaning, just so you know."

Roy looked as if he were trying not to laugh. "Don't worry, Ed. If you collapse from exhaustion, there's a guest room you can sleep in." Ed's eyes widened at the thought of sleeping over, even if it was in the guest room. Roy's eyes narrowed slightly for a moment. "Though," he nodded toward the other side of the room, "If your brother keeps up with the punch the way he is, we might have to put _him_ in there." Ed followed the other man's eye line, and sure enough, Al was chatting animatedly with Shezka and drinking the punch as if it were water. Ed wanted to tell him to slow down, and nearly got up to do so, but Roy put a hand on his arm. "Let him be."

"But he'll get drunk!"

"What's your point?" Roy asked, eying him strangely. "He's of legal age. And he knows that stuff's spiked. If he doesn't stop, then it's his fault that he'll be worshiping the porcelain god later on." There was an oddly sadistic smile at the corners of Roy's mouth, which reminded Ed much of the one he'd seen there at his own birthday party. All it had taken was a few drinks for him to be wobbling around the barroom. Come to think of it, Ed could not remember Al ever drinking before. It might be amusing to see him that way.

* * *

"Damn," Roy grunted, "he's heavier than he looks." He currently had Alphonse thrown over one of his shoulders, and was walking up the stairs with Ed not far behind.

A snort came from Ed, and he said, "Yeah, but did you _see_ him before he passed out?" Roy laughed at that. Al had been all but slobbering drunk. Hopefully, he would not remember anything he said in the past hour, because if he did, the kid would never be able to face Riza again. The look on her face when Al started telling her how pretty she was had been priceless. In the end, he had his doubts about Al 'passing out'. He was pretty sure Riza hit some kind of pressure point and knocked him out to avoid his making too much more of an ass of himself.

Ed walked ahead of him to the indicated door, and opened it. Roy entered, using his right shoulder to turn on the lights. It was a simple room, with nothing more than a bed, a small night-table, and one trunk in the far corner. As gently as possible, he let Al down onto the bed. Ed immediately moved in to yank off the drunken young man's shoes, and began unbuttoning his shirt. Roy went into the adjoining bathroom and got the garbage can. When it was set next to the bed, he excused himself. "I'll go and get rid of everyone. You just make sure to put him close enough to the edge that when he pukes, he'll do it in that can."

The snickering laughter that followed him out of the door made him chuckle in turn. He could well imagine how much fun Ed was having right now, putting his usually uptight sibling to bed while he was passed out drunk. Putting one hand on the railing, Roy stumped down the stairs. His subordinates were lounging around the room in varying states of relaxation and/or inebriation. Havoc was laughing at Riza, who was sitting stiffly on one arm of the couch. Her jacket was unzipped, revealing a dark green sweater, and her arms were crossed firmly under her breasts. She looked as if she were just this side of mortified.

Breda piped up from the table where the snacks were held and said, "So, Sir, how's Al?"

One of Roy's thin, dark eyebrows rose, and he regarded the smile on Breda's face with some suspicion. "He's fine. Just passed out." Of course, as he said this, there was an enormously loud retching sound from upstairs, followed by a very indignant yell.

"AAAAALL! YOU NASTY LITTLE FUCKER! GODDAMNIT! YOU PUKED ON ME!"

Eyes widened all around the room, and for half a second, no one moved. Then, Havoc gave a little cough. "Er…look at the time! I really should get going." He approached Roy and put a hand on his shoulder, saying, "Good luck dealing with the Boss, Sir. I don't guess he's real happy right now." And as soon as he grabbed his coat, Fuery was on his feet, leading the mass-exodus to the door.

Riza was the last to leave, as always. She stood, zipping her jacket. "Do you need any help with Edward and Alphonse?"

Roy shook his head. "No, I think I'll be fine. If we end up burning the place down, I'll just make Ed fix it." She looked a little doubtful of that, but in the end, she did leave. Now, he walked to the foot of the stairs. "Ed? You okay?"

"No!" Came the yelled reply, "I'm covered in projectile vomit!" Roy sighed, beginning to make his way upstairs. This was not the way he'd envisioned the evening. He'd thought that Falman's punch would mellow Alphonse out a bit. That way, it would have been much less irritating when he might get just a tad friendlier with Ed. Simple as that. Now, he had a passed-out drunk Al in his guest room, and a very annoyed Edward, who continued to grumble as he mounted the head of the staircase. Upon entering the guest room, he saw Ed wiping up a large amount of very red vomit from the floor. He wasn't wearing his dress shirt, and it appeared that the large formerly white cloth he'd been using on the hardwood floor used to be what he'd been wearing.

The muscles of Ed's back flexed and relaxed as he scrubbed at the floor, holding all of Roy's attention. There were scars on his back that Roy had never seen, and he wondered how they'd gotten there. As Ed cleaned, his mumbling became completely unintelligible. He looked up at Roy when he had done, and tossed his shirt into the garbage can, disgusted. Ed looked as if he were about to explode as he stood up. It appeared that the only article of clothing that had been ruined was the shirt. Roy thanked the powers that be for small miracles. He wasn't sure he wanted to deal with Ed if he had another uniform ruined. "He missed the can," Ed said flatly.

Roy nodded. "I see that."

Ed's face gave a twitch as he went into the bathroom. "Do you have any extra clothes?" He asked as the shower roared to life.

"Sure. I'll get something. Pajamas okay?" Something that sounded affirmative came out of the bathroom, so Roy went down the hall to get a set of pajamas for Ed. Al was now snuggled into the covers, his chin cleaned of sickness. The only dilemma was where Ed would sleep. He had few options. As the house had only two bedrooms, he could either sleep on the couch or in Roy's bed. While the dirty old man that took up a significant portion of Roy's brain kept telling him that Ed should sleep in his bed, the rest of him knew that it would be a point of contention.

The only real obstacle after Al's attitude was Edward. If he made reference to his less-than-platonic feelings, the blond man would stutter, blush, and try to change the subject. He had seen a little of that when he suggested that Ed might need to sleep in the guest room. This was something that he truly did not understand. Was it that Ed was a prude? He wondered on this subject as he rooted through his dresser, trying to find something that could possibly fit his young friend. In the end, he settled on an old, faded pair of blue flannel pajamas that had shrunk a bit when he'd put them in the dryer one too many times.

Upon arriving once again in the guest room, he saw that Ed was standing over his brother, his anger having dulled somewhat. For a second or two, he simply stood there, gaping. Ed wore nothing but one of Roy's bathroom towels, cinched around his waist, his hands on his hips in a standoffish posture. He saw that Ed had neglected to dry himself off completely, as water clung to the indentations between the muscles of his abdomen. The room suddenly felt much warmer than it had a moment ago, and he forced himself to turn his attention to the fact that the ends of Ed's bangs had gotten wet, along with some of his braid. It wouldn't do to be caught ogling.

Ed noticed Roy's entrance, but did not look away from Al. "Damn it," he said in an annoyed tone, "I can't stay mad at him when he looks like that." Indeed, Roy thought that Al was perhaps one of the most innocent-looking people he'd met, so it was difficult to keep up even the appearance of anger. Not when he turned those eyes on you. Eyes much like Ed's, which now looked to where he stood in the doorway. "Oh, good," he said, "you found something."

Roy looked down, and realized that he was holding the clothing he'd gone to retrieve. "Oh…yes. It's old, but it should fit all right."

* * *

Ed wondered why Roy looked so...befuddled, but decided to shrug it off. He walked over and took the clothes from the other man, who simply let them slip from his fingers while staring dumbly. As he was walking away, it hit him that he was half naked, and soaking wet. Ed resisted the urge to actually _run _into the bathroom. He knew his face was turning an embarrassing shade of red, but that hardly mattered, since he was nearly to the lavatory door.

Were he to see Roy in such a state, what would _he_ look like? _Probably a lot like that_, he thought. _Yeah, and I'd be as red as a tomato._ It was truly irritating the way he couldn't control the color of his face, or even his speech patterns at times. Ed wasn't sure what it was about being in close proximity to Roy that made him flustered and uneasy, but whatever it was, he wished it would stop. He stuttered, and blushed, and said _very_ stupid things. Maybe the problem was that he didn't know how to act around Roy now.

If they were in a professional situation, he was fine. Things were all right when they were having a drink at the bar, as well. But there had been times, especially in the past month, when Ed was simply at a loss for words. He closed the door to the bathroom behind him, and pulled away the towel from his waist. Wiping the mirror with the soft cloth, he looked at his face. It was, as he had suspected, rather pink. Ed growled in the back of his throat at his own inability to deal with the current situation. Deep down, he knew it wasn't that he didn't know how to act. Growls turned to a long, tired sigh.

He could force himself to behave normally with Roy, but what good would that do? _Normal_ was not what he wanted. His normal, usual self around Roy was angry and intolerant. Ed wasn't sure he wanted to be that person anymore. Roy was not the enemy.

_Okay, _Ed thought as he pulled on the soft flannel pajama pants, _if he's not an enemy, then what is he?_

Well, that was the sixty-four thousand dollar question, wasn't it? He dabbed at his chest with the towel before discarding it. It was obvious to him—and probably to anyone that saw them together—that his commanding officer had…a _thing_ for him. The issue at hand was whether Ed had a similar _thing_. He had never thought of anyone in a romantic sense, so it was difficult to start now. Threading his arms through the sleeves of the pajama shirt, he thought about the various people he'd met, and how he felt about them.

Winry was like a sister to him, and try as he might, it was completely impossible to think of her as anything else. His other acquaintances in the military garnered lukewarm responses at best, with the exception of Colonel Armstrong, who made his blood run cold, though not so much as his older sister did. Then there were his old friends back home. They were not much more than distant recollections, now. None of those people had ever made his stomach feel hot and cold at the same time, or caused him to be inarticulate due to their mere presence.

On the other side of the door, however, there was an individual who was capable of precisely those things, and much more. Roy Mustang could push his buttons better than any other human being alive today, but that was probably because he was the only person that understood him well enough to be able to do it. And when he felt like it, Roy was almost sweet. His fingers slipped on the top button of the shirt as they attempted to get it through the buttonhole. Sudden realization hit him with the force of a fifteen mega-ton warhead, and Ed swayed on his feet. Only throwing a hand out and gripping the sink kept him from falling over completely.

He wasn't really sure, and he wouldn't be until he actually left the bathroom, but it seemed like something he should have thought of a long time ago. Ed would not be certain about it until he saw Roy, but for the love of God, he did _not_ want to leave the bathroom…he just couldn't face that man. _You can't hide in here forever, you know._ Ed suddenly wished that he'd had more of that punch. At least it would make dealing with Roy a bit easier now that he had figured out his own feelings.

* * *

Roy was just putting away the last of the snacks when Ed came down the stairs. Even if they'd shrunk, his old pajamas were still a bit large on the younger alchemist. He could see the edge of Ed's automail fittings for his shoulder, and the sleeves came down nearly to cover his fingers. Almost certainly, he had to roll up the pants, as well. For a long moment, Ed simply stood there at the foot of the stairs, his weight shifting from foot to foot. He would glance at Roy, and then look away uncomfortably, which made the older man quite concerned.

He set down the bag of potato chips he'd been holding, and crossed half of the room before asking, "Is something wrong with Al?" Ed just shook his head vigorously, his eyes widening and body stiffening with each step Roy took toward him. "Are _you _okay?"

Ed made a show of laughing off his apparent nervousness, and said, "I'm fine. Do you have any garbage bags?" Roy found this behavior to be very strange, but said that he did, and went into the pantry, returning with a roll of forty-gallon black plastic garbage bags. They were the ones he used to put leaves in when he had the yard all raked. After setting them down on the coffee table, he went back into the kitchen to put away the rest of the food, including the cake, which went into the refrigerator.

When he got back, the room looked as if there had been no party, with the exception of a small mound of unwrapped gifts on the sideboard, and four large, full bags of decorations. Roy raised an eyebrow. "I thought it was going to take forever?" He felt the corners of his mouth turning upward in amusement.

Ed scratched the back of his head in a sheepish gesture. "I forgot?"

Roy snorted. "You must have been pretty preoccupied to suddenly forget that you've studied alchemy for most of your life." Ed laughed, still sounding uncomfortable. Now Roy knew something was wrong. He could not remember a time when Ed had been like this. "Are you _sure_ you're okay, Ed?"

* * *

Inwardly, Ed cursed. This was worse than he thought. Roy knew something was up, and if he asked, Ed wasn't altogether certain he'd be able to tell him what it was. It looked like it was time for a last ditch effort to keep the other man in the dark, if only for a little longer. "Eh…I think I need a freakin' drink. I've never been puked on before, and it's been a _long_ day." Roy seemed satisfied with this, and disappeared into the kitchen before returning with a bottle and two glasses. They plopped down on the couch—well, _Ed_ plopped—and the glasses were filled. As he took his drink from Roy, his fingertips barely grazed the skin of the older man's knuckles.

There was the barest of pauses, almost unnoticeable, in Roy's movement when his hand withdrew, but Ed saw it. In fact, he was picking up all sorts of little details that he never had before. He settled himself on the opposite end of the couch, trying to put some space between them, but ended up pulling his legs up, and leaning on the squashy arm of the thing. Now facing Roy's right side, he watched him covertly as he drank. When the liquor touched his tongue, he started. It was a smooth, rich taste that spread through his mouth and trickled down his throat, instantly warming him. Ed dug his toes into the cushions, getting more comfortable and making rather contented sounds.

Roy reached around the side of the couch, and came back up with a rather fuzzy green blanket. "Here," he said as he tossed it over Ed's legs, "to keep you warm."

Ed lowered his glass, and his thoughts popped right out of his mouth without waiting for approval. "You ought to be careful, Roy. I might start to think you're a nice guy." He now wished there was a wall nearby, so that he could bang his head against it. That sounded _beyond_ lame.

Up shot one very dark eyebrow, denoting only mild irritation. "I am a nice guy."

"When you want something, you are," Ed blurted, and was instantly sorry. It might have been the hurt that flitted over Roy's face, but it was more than likely what followed it. That slightly wounded expression was replaced _very_ quickly with a grin so conniving, so evil, so irrepressibly wicked that Ed felt his stomach drop right down into his toes.

"What _exactly_ do you mean by that, Edward?" If he'd thought Roy's smile was evil before, he had been wrong. It somehow worsened when he spoke in that slow way that somehow added a sort of darkness to his voice. Ed swallowed, trying to speak, but found that his voice had gone absent without leave. His hands gripped his glass tighter, and his face started to burn.

"I…" Ed croaked, not knowing what to say. Of course, it was easy to tell what—or it might be more appropriate to say _whom_—Roy wanted, but Ed would be damned if he was going to say that aloud. Instead, he took a long draw from his glass. Alcohol seemed to calm his nerves at times. Though at the moment, there did not seem to be anything that would be capable of such a feat. He watched Roy watching him from across the couch, and swallowed more of his drink. There wasn't much left of what he'd started with, and he held out the glass in a silent request.

Roy smiled again, uncorking the bottle. "You looking to get drunk, Ed?" The question seemed innocent enough. And perhaps in Roy's mind, it had been. But to Ed, that sounded incalculably dirty, and his face felt as if it had caught fire.

He found his voice just in time to mutter, "It takes the edge off."

This statement earned a nod from the older alchemist. "That it does," Roy said in that dark tone. Ed didn't understand why, but Roy's voice was doing very strange things to him. The low, deep sound reached right down into his guts, playing Hell with his equilibrium. He was completely unable to look away from Roy's face, even as he poured another full tumbler. "Here you are, Ed." When he stretched out his hand for the glass again, Roy held it just out of his reach. It was like dangling a lifeline in front of a drowning man. Ed's fingertips barely touched the cool surface of the glass. Roy chuckled. In an almost sing-song way, he chided, "Ask nicely."

What kind of game was Roy playing now? Ed thought for a moment, regarding the way those dark eyes looked at him. Was he trying to make him feel stupid? Or…maybe he was doing that for an entirely different reason. Ed realized suddenly that he was trying to make him even more nervous. Roy was pushing his buttons, making him flustered and aggravated on purpose. Why he did that, Ed never understood, but he must take pleasure in it. And what was Ed around for, if not to burst Roy's bubble at every opportunity?

How, precisely did one burst the bubble of the man seated not four feet away? _Well,_ Ed thought, _that's simple. I do the thing he least expects._

* * *

Roy watched Ed looking dumbly at him. He loved baiting the younger man, simply because of how fun it was to watch him blush. Once he discovered the correct sequence of looks, comments and actions, it only took a little maneuvering before he could see that pink tinge in Ed's cheeks. That such coloring just happened to be rather becoming on Edward was an added bonus, of course.

The blush darkened for a moment, and Ed looked away, teeth beginning to worry at his bottom lip. This new behavior was entrancing, and Roy could not take his eyes from it. All too soon, however, that lip was released, and Ed looked at him again. There was an expression in those golden eyes that he'd never seen. It was almost coy, but Ed was_ never_ coy. A tiny smile was pulling at the corners of his mouth, and Roy somehow found it to be slightly threatening. Instincts of fight or flight flooded his body with adrenaline as Ed got up onto his knees, inching closer. Roy's mouth went dry.

From the look on Ed's face, he knew he should jump up from where he was sitting and run away screaming bloody murder. There was no way that _anything_ good could come of that face. He couldn't even defend himself, as both of his hands were full. His heart started hammering in his chest when Ed's knee brushed against his leg. The last time he was this close, they'd gotten into a physical altercation resulting in Roy wearing a cast for eight weeks. It took a lot for him to keep from swallowing at the lump in his throat.

Ed was leaning toward him now, and he could feel body heat. Surely he could hear Roy's heartbeat, because it pounded even harder now, filling his ears with the rush of blood. He felt Ed's breath as it drifted over the skin of his lips. A clinking sound came from nearby, but it could have been on the moon for all Roy cared. The heat from Ed's mouth was so close, the smell of him invaded Roy's head, and he felt suddenly drunk. And then Ed's lips parted, whispering one word in a breathless, almost desperate way. "Please…"

Roy's eyes started to slide shut. He could almost feel the texture of those lips, and damn him, but he could taste them, too. And then…it was gone. A sudden chill came over him, and Roy opened his eyes. What he saw was baffling. Ed was sitting across the couch again, now holding his drink and smirking evilly. "You…" He began, but couldn't finish for a long moment. It took nearly half a minute of staring at Edward's triumphant grin before he thought of the right word. "You…you _tease!_"

An infuriatingly innocent look came over Ed's face. "What are you talking about?" Of course, that didn't last long, because Ed's poker face cracked, and then he burst into peals of laughter. "You should have seen yourself…" Holding his drink with his auto-mail hand, Ed put the palm of his flesh hand against his side, where it apparently hurt him to laugh as hard as he was. Roy could not believe this. It would appear that Ed had learned how to exploit his weaknesses, and that somehow angered him.

His left arm extended, and he set the bottle down on the coffee table with a soft thump. "That was a dirty trick, Edward," he could hear the sharp note of irritation in his voice, but even to his own ears, that did not cover the disappointment that lay beneath.

The smirk now reached Ed's eyes, and he replied, "I learned from the best." He did not look away from Roy as he sipped more of the whiskey in his glass. Was that an underhanded compliment, or a thinly veiled insult? Hell, it might be both, coming from Ed. He didn't know what to make of this. But, if he was going to get the upper hand again, Roy had to get a grip on the situation.

"And yet, Edward, you didn't move in for the kill…" One blond eyebrow rose, the unspoken challenge having been acknowledged. "Maybe you just don't have what it takes?" Oh, if that didn't get Ed's attention, nothing would. And as Roy watched, Ed blinked slowly, digesting what he had just said.

Ed's face went blank. "Did you just call me _chicken_?"

Roy scratched the side of his face, and then shrugged. "You said it, not me." He kept his expression carefully neutral, right along with his voice as he continued, "But now that you mention it…you did _stop_." Watching that stew in Ed's mind seemed to take ages, but finally, he saw the characteristic rising of Ed's chin.

In a tone that dripped defiance, Ed asked rhetorically, "So you think I'm _scared_ of you or something?" Roy only raised his eyebrows. In such situations, silence was as good as an admission of guilt. And for once, he wasn't trying to back out of the argument. He wasn't trying to win, either. That would defeat the purpose. Again, Ed seemed to think. The wheels in the young man's head turned so loudly, Roy could hear them all the way across the couch. Where they were headed was anyone's guess, though. After taking another swig from his glass—finishing it off—Ed set it down on the table. He looked like he had formed some kind of conclusion, but Roy was completely unsure what that might be.

Ed's flesh hand rose, coming up nearly to his face. One finger made a curling motion, and he said, "Why don't you come over _here_ and say that?"

Obediently, Roy scooted over onto the middle cushion. Leaning over just a little, he let his smile turn evil again and said lowly, "Chicken."

Eyes narrowing to slits, Ed pushed his face forward. "Look who's talking…" There was mean-spirited amusement in that growl. Roy couldn't tell if it was a warning or an invitation. He didn't even know why Ed was doing this. Was it because he was tipsy, and the inhibitions had fallen by the wayside? Or was he just screwing around?

Roy couldn't help but lean in closer. He could smell the soap from the upstairs bathroom, the liquor on Ed's breath, and something warm and earthy underneath. These things, mixed with the heat coming from the younger man's body proved to be a heady, potent mixture. His voice came out in a harsh whisper, betraying him. "You don't know what you're doing, Ed."

Fast as a snake, Ed's auto-mail hand shot out, grabbing the front of Roy's shirt. Their faces were so close, he thought he felt his nose touch Ed's as he said threateningly, "So now I'm just a kid again, am I?"

"No," Roy replied helplessly, feeling his lips graze Ed's when he spoke, "I mean you don't know what you're doing…to me." For an instant, he paused, gathering the courage to do what he had wanted to for months. By way of warning, he said, "I'm going to kiss you, Ed." There was some kind of noise that came from Ed, but it got cut off when their lips met.

* * *

Whatever protests Ed had been formulating suddenly went up in smoke. He didn't understand what was happening, or how a simple joke could lead to this. It was beyond him why he hadn't knocked Roy across the room the instant his mouth came into contact with Ed's. But as much of a mystery as that was, it was nowhere near as shocking to his system as when he let go of the cloth he'd been holding, his hand sliding up to the back of Roy's neck to pull him closer.

After a long few moments, Ed was having difficulty breathing. He pulled away, only to see an utterly dazed look on Roy's face. It looked like he was drunk. For as long as he'd known the man, Ed had never seen him look quite like that. _I did that to him, _Ed thought, suddenly feeling quite pleased with himself. "Are you all right, Roy," he asked teasingly, "or did I kill you?" Roy simply blinked at him. This was fun. Ed liked the look on his face, and he liked very much that he'd been the one to put it there. It felt rather good, this pressing of lips, but he knew there was more to it than that.

* * *

It took a very long time for Roy to recover from that. Unsure if he was awake, dreaming, or possibly drunk, he gave his leg a small pinch. Nope. He was awake, and not drunk enough for the pain to have dulled. That only meant one thing. Edward Elric let Roy kiss him. And judging by the fact that he was still alive, Ed hadn't hated it. Just when he thought he'd gotten over his first taste of Ed, he was inundated once again. Lips pressed against his, warm and insistent. Roy felt like his body was floating, especially when something hot and wet and undeniably like a tongue slid across his lower lip.

"Ed, what—"his question was swallowed up by the most wonderfully gratifying sensation of Ed's tongue entering his mouth. He couldn't remember feeling this lost because of a simple kiss. Fingers threaded into his hair, pulling him in further and deepening the kiss dangerously. Breathing was difficult, and he could feel a familiar tingling in the pit of his stomach. His mind was growing hazy, beginning to care much less than he had a moment ago that Edward might be getting caught up in something he was probably not ready for. But he questioned even that thought when the younger man began doing things to his mouth that Roy was sure he should have no knowledge of.

Had someone walked in at that moment, they might have described the image of Ed and Roy as obscene. Ed moved to sit in Roy's lap, settling in a very precarious place, considering how excited Roy had become. He did not seem bothered by this at all, settling his full weight directly over the obvious bulge there. The kiss broke again when that happened, and Roy gave a harsh, strangled cry. Ed's mouth trailed down his jaw, and Roy let out a groan when sharp teeth nipped at his throat. Through the fog in his head, he knew that he needed to stop this. If he didn't, it might get out of hand. He was not prepared for that, and neither was Ed. It took far too much out of him to put his hands on Ed's shoulders and push him away.

"What?" Ed asked, genuinely confused.

The weight in his lap shifted, and Roy gasped. "Ah! As much as it…pains me to say, I think that this has gone far enough." Ed made a face that was dangerously close to a pout, and Roy used resolve he didn't know he had to say, "I don't want to go too fast. I…I don't want to do anything to hurt you."

"But…" Ed said softly, leaning forward and kissing him gently, "…it feels…so nice…"

He closed his eyes. "And…" Roy didn't want to say it. Ed kissed him again, deeper this time, and he could feel his willpower being driven to the breaking point. Finally, when he could almost hear it on point of snapping in two, he took Ed's face in both hands, pulling away from him slightly. Holding him there, he said, "It feels _amazing_, Ed. But I don't know why you're doing it. Can we wait until the morning…and talk about it then?"

* * *

Ed wanted to yell at him. He wanted to throw a tantrum that would shake the entire house. Wasn't it obvious to Roy? How could he _not_ have figured out why Ed suddenly decided to molest his mouth in ways that he never could have imagined? Instead of raising his voice, spoke calmly. "Look me in the eye, Roy, and tell me you don't know why I kissed you." Eyes black as tar opened, peering into his, and then suddenly closed again. Roy's arms wound around him then, pulling him tightly against him. His voice was muffled by the sweater the man wore when he said, "I'm not so drunk that I didn't know what I was doing…"

"Ed," Roy said near his ear, "I'm really tired."

Ed laughed a little. He felt it, too. The adrenaline was draining off, and what it left behind was a kind of emotional fatigue that made his entire body feel heavy and sluggish. "Then let's go to sleep, okay?" The words were out of his mouth before his brain had time to filter them, but he wasn't really sorry. Sleep sounded very good to him, and he'd be damned if he was going to do it on this lumpy couch. A moment later, he was following Roy upstairs. The bed was big enough for four people, but it wasn't long before he was safely pressed against a newly pajama-clad chest.

"'Night, Ed," he heard Roy say before he felt lips press against his forehead.

"Good night, Roy."

* * *

**A/N:** Attention! The final chapter of _Demon In the Design _is currently being held hostage. As this one is already over 8,000 words, it was going to have to be a two-parter anyway. In the coming chapter, you'll get to see a nice early-morning confrontation between Al and Roy, and some rather steaminess between our main pair. So if you want your smut, then you need to...Review.

A note on canon and accuracy: I'm not exactly sure what it was that Trisha Elric died of. Though I've seen the Anime, I have only gotten through 1 volume of the Manga, so if there's any detail that I've missed on that account, please forgive me. For the purposes of this story, Trisha died of cancer. Also, where age is concerned, I'm basing age off of Edward, who is 20. All other ages should be adjusted accordingly in your minds, to avoid that increasingly pesky confusion over child pron.


	6. VI: Deep

**A/N:** Okay. So I decided that I would do as a couple of people suggested, and work really hard tonight to finish the last teensy bit of this story, so that I can get nice reviews for posting not one but TWO chapters in one day. Not only that, but completing something! Those of you that wanted an angry Alphonse, you get him. Just don't hate him. He's very confused right now. Anyhow, I expect reviews, ASAP.

**Warnings:**

**FL--**Foul Language

**S-ai--**Shounen-ai

**Y--**Barely Yaoi

**Title:** Demon In the Design (or… A Good Idea At the Time)

**Series:** Full Metal Alchemist

**Pair:** Roy/Ed

**Begun:** November 3, 2008

**Complete:** December 30, 2008

**Summary:** Prank wars never end well. Design, Deception, Denial and Decision take Roy Mustang to an unexpected Destination.

* * *

**VI: **Deep

It had been little after six in the morning when the dim gray light of dawn began to creep into the master bedroom of Roy Mustang's house. Now just past eight a.m., the golden rays of true sunlight were filtering through the blinds in long, horizontal bars. Dark eyes fluttered open after a few minutes of lingering between sleep and awake, and were treated to a very different sight than they were wont to see. Edward lay on his back, his head turned slightly toward where Roy was. Long, long hair spread out over the pillows, light reflecting from it as if from a pale river. His face was serene, the ever-present crease between his brows ironed flat by hours of peaceful sleep.

Roy reached out and moved aside a stray bit of bangs from where they had fallen across Ed's eyes. Dark brown eyelashes rested against his cheeks, longer than those of most women he knew. He could not stop the words from coming out in a bare whisper as he said, "You are a thing of beauty, aren't you?" He flushed slightly at his own words, but was sure that anyone would have said the same. Though, he was very glad that no one else was present to do so. After all, Roy was a selfish bastard, and he had no desire to share the sight of Ed looking the way he did just now. Not with anyone.

Ed rubbed his face against the pillow, turning onto his side. Roy held his breath, not wanting to wake him just yet. When Ed finally did wake up, there would be complications arising from what had happened the night before. If he could put those unpleasant thoughts aside for only a few more minutes, he would be happy. Slowly, Roy raised himself onto one elbow. What would Ed say about what they had done? Would he want to forget it, or would he be able to come to grips with the feelings he obviously had for his commanding officer? Roy had never been an optimist. He knew his track record and reputation were not things which could work in his favor in such a situation. It was also clear that Ed had a long memory for being wronged, and though he might have forgiven him for what he had done, that forgiveness may not be complete.

Even so, he could not keep from clinging to a small shred of hope that when Edward opened his eyes, they would not be full of disgust, or worse yet, with pity. Very slowly, and as gently as possible, Roy leaned down. The feeling of Ed's cheek beneath his lips for what might well be the last time was burned into his memory, now. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply, taking in the smell of him. Oh, he knew that there was no hope for him now. There might be a million women out there, but for him, there was only one man. And maybe his hope was false. Maybe when Ed woke up, he would yell and beat Roy over the head with the bedside lamp, proclaiming him a nasty old pervert. Maybe he would never want anything to do with him again. Maybe—Roy cut those thoughts off as soon as he possibly could, opening his eyes. He knew Ed wasn't that kind of person.

Movement caught his attention at the corner of his vision, and he lifted his head, turning toward the flash of color he'd seen. There, framed in the doorway, was Alphonse Elric, his face beginning to redden. His hair was wet, and though fully dressed, seemed quite rumpled, indeed. His mouth was working open and shut, as if grasping for words foul enough to use under the current circumstances. Roy was fully expecting a string of colorful expletives, but was surprised when Al simply turned on his heel and headed for the stairs.

"Shit," Roy cursed under his breath, sliding as quietly as he could out of bed and making to follow the young man as he bolted down the single flight of stairs and into the living room. "Al!" he called none too quietly, but the younger man was already nearly to the entry hall. The little bugger was fast, Roy knew, and he cleared the hall corner when Roy was only at the couch. "Damn it, Al, wai—" he growled, but his breath got knocked out of him by a sucker-punch to the solar-plexus as he entered the hall. Gasping for air that would not come, he fell to his knees. When he looked up, it was through watering eyes.

Even then, he could easily tell that Al had bloodlust written all over his face.

"Shut up," Al hissed as he took hold of the front of Roy's pajama shirt and proceeded to haul him to his feet. Just when Roy was able to draw breath, it was taken from him again when his back slammed into the wall. China and other ornaments rattled in the cupboard on the wall's other side, and he winced as something expensive broke. He could feel himself sliding _up_, and soon his feet no longer touched the floor. Al was obviously a lot stronger than he looked. "How _dare_ you…" Al's voice began to rise when he pulled Roy away from the wall, only to smash him even harder against it, causing plaster to crack. "How dare you treat my brother like you have…and then…then…take advantage of him?"

He still couldn't breathe very well, since Al's bunched fists were pressed against his throat. He tried to shake his head, to indicate a negative response, but Al would have none of it. His assailant released him, and he fell to the floor in a heap. Finally, he was able to breathe. For a long moment, all he could do was take in massive lungful after lungful of air, blessing all the little molecules one by one. "Al," he began, but cut himself off when he saw a booted foot drawing back. Eyes shutting tight, he threw his arms up in front of his face before curling into a fetal position to protect himself.

"ALPHONSE!"

Roy's eyes opened slightly, just in time to see Ed jump over him. From where he lay on the floor, it was impossible to tell what exactly happened. The movements of both men were far too quick, and he was not in the proper state of mind to analyze them. But, from the flurry of punches, kicks and counter-attacks, only one brother could emerge victorious. There was a harsh cry of pain, and a body hit the floor in front of him. Blinking, he looked up to see Edward standing with his foot planted in the middle of Al's back, holding one of his arms up at an awkward angle. Al's face, while contorted in pain, was filled more so with shock.

"Are you done?" Ed's voice came out in an angry growl.

"Yes," Al muttered, and his arm was released. Immediately, he got to his feet.

"Roy," Ed said, "are you okay?" His heart was pounding, and it took a lot for him to push his body into a seated position. Once Ed saw that he was all right, he turned his anger onto his brother. "What were you _doing?_" He asked this through clenched teeth, obviously close to resorting to violence once more. When he got no response, he grabbed the front of Al's sweater, yanking him closer in a threatening manner, "Answer me."

Roy was beginning to panic. This was not good. Thinking fast, he got shakily to his feet and put a hand on Edward's shoulder. "Stop, Ed." Ed now not only looked to be exceedingly pissed off, but he was also confused. "Please," Roy said in a low, hoarse tone, "Let's go to the kitchen. I'll make a pot of coffee and we can discuss things." Casting a worried glance at Alphonse, he added, "Without fists."

Twenty minutes—and much shouting—later, the three men sat rather quietly at the kitchen table, sipping what Ed called the nectar of the gods. It was not that great, but any coffee would do at the moment, Roy supposed. The silence stretched out between them like an awkward blanket, and it obviously took a lot of self-restraint for Al to keep his voice down when he finally asked Ed, "So you…_love_ him?" Something in Roy's stomach felt as if it were going to fall to the center of the earth. His eyes darted toward Ed, and watched the young man's cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink, and then begin to stain crimson. His answer to the question was an unintelligible mutter. Al looked from Ed to Roy, and then back again, his expression going from disbelief to exasperation. "You two are _beyond_ screwed up," was all he said before taking his cup to the coffee pot again.

Immediately, Ed was defensive, his head whipping around to follow his brother and yelling, "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Roy could practically hear the younger Elric's eyes rolling. For all of his naïveté, Al knew the obvious when he saw it. The next words out of Al's mouth seemed to shock Ed more than Roy had thought possible. Al turned around, leaning on the counter near the stove. His mug steamed in his hand, and for a moment he looked very tired, indeed. "Brother," he said wearily, "I'm going to call a taxi, and go home. Hopefully, by the time you get back yourself, you will have stopped acting like an idiot."

With those words, the young man left the room, still sipping his coffee. Ed merely stared after him, gaping. Roy watched the ideas Al had put forth as they sunk right into Edward's mind. It took some time, but after a good thirty seconds, golden eyes hesitantly looked his way. There was uncertainty there, and Roy knew that it would be the most difficult obstacle to overcome from here on out. So, he sipped his coffee, preferring to let Ed take the lead in the conversation.

Said 'lead' did not come for close to fifteen minutes, during which they heard Al exit the house as the taxi honked its horn outside. The silence was somehow nearly palpable, now that they were alone. While he knew precisely how he himself felt, Roy could not say the same for Edward. The younger man looked as if he did not know—to use a rather crude phrase Havoc was fond of— whether he should scratch his watch or wind his ass. It seemed like an eternity before Ed finally spoke.

"I guess he knows me too well." That came out as a grumble, but Roy could not help the smile on his face.

Quietly, so that it would not be too jarring, he replied, "Al is your brother, Edward. He knows you better than anybody."

For a second or two, Ed did not move. He stared at a spot on the wall to Roy's left, not even seeming to breathe. Then, he looked up, a very familiar expression in his eyes. It was like all of those hundreds of times that Ed knew he was right, and contradicting Roy was the _only_ way to prove it. In that same, familiar tone of disagreement, Ed said, "Stupid…" Roy flinched, but Ed continued, "…no he doesn't. There's a lot he doesn't understand about me." This confused Roy for a moment. If Al did not know him better than anyone else, who did? A sudden smack rocked his brain as Ed swiped at his head. "You're being _stupid_ again."

His hand flew to the side of his head, where the flat of Ed's auto-mail palm had connected. "What the _Hell_, Ed?"

The fire had come back to Ed's eyes, the often-glimpsed spark of irritation. "_Yes,_ idiot. Al is my brother. _Yes,_ he knows me very well. But _you_ know me…so much better. How the Hell else could know exactly what to say to make me want to knock you upside the head so hard that it should take a week for you to wake up? You know just what to say, exactly how to _look_ at me, and I fly off the handle. All for your amusement. But then there are the times when you do those things…_say_ those things…that you make me understand myself. Better than I did before." Ed's face was reddening again. He was still looking Roy in the eye, though, which was a vast improvement over a few minutes ago.

Not that his head hurt him any less for it. "Okay," Roy began, "so what are you trying to say?"

Ed seemed to deflate. He looked away, and muttered, "I have to say it out loud?"

The little spark of hope was alive in Roy's stomach again, clinging on for dear life, and he found himself smiling. "I'd like that." Ed mumbled something, but he couldn't understand him. "Sorry?"

Ed became even redder, and for a full minute, he did not speak. Finally, in a voice so quiet that it could barely be heard over Roy's own breathing, he whispered, "I said, 'love you'." For someone that claimed to love him, Edward certainly looked miserable at the moment. Roy wished he would look happier, because he himself felt as though he would burst.

"Are you all right, Edward?" He asked, trying very hard not to jump up and do a dance of joy. The younger man looked at him as though he were insane. Reaching across the table, he took Ed's flesh hand in his, and gave it a small squeeze. "If it makes you feel any better, I love you too."

Something that looked suspiciously like hurt passed over Ed's face, and he pulled his hand away. "Don't make fun of me," he choked out, his eyes beginning to film over with tears that refused to fall. "No you don't. You just think you do."

"Wh…why would you say something like that, Edward?" Roy asked, knowing that the pain was showing in his face and voice, but not caring at all. "Do you think that I can't?"

Ed's eyes shut tightly as he shook his head. "No…that's not it. I know that you can. It's there in you…I can see it. Just, you can't love me, Roy." Ed suddenly pushed away from the table, getting to his feet and walking swiftly from the room. Roy felt nothing that he should at the moment. After being rejected in such a way, by all rights he knew that he should feel disappointed, or sad. Instead, he merely felt a deep, burning anger. Quickly, he rose to follow.

Ed was nearly to the couch when he threw the kitchen door open. "Ed, stop!" he yelled, and Ed did. His back was turned, and he looked so…small. Roy walked slowly across the living room, coming to stand directly behind Ed. Carefully, he placed both of his hands on the younger man's shoulders. "Why?"

* * *

Ed felt like he was dying. How was he supposed to answer that question? There was little he could do, or say to discourage Roy when he truly believed something. If he said aloud what _he_ believed, Roy would just laugh at him. His shoulders sagged. Then he felt warmth near his right ear, and heard Roy's voice. "Tell me," he said, "tell me what it is I'm feeling, Edward. If it isn't love, then what is it?"

His stomach clenched. "I don't know," he heard himself say, "it has to be something else."

Roy's hands clamped down on his shoulders before they let go entirely, only to lead the way for his arms to wrap around Ed completely. His heart felt as if it would burst from his chest, and he began to breathe faster. It must be something else. It had to be. "Edward," Roy's cheek was now pressed against his as he spoke. "If you're thinking that I am only trying to…" the taller man stiffened as if in indignation, "…to sleep with you…you should stop."

It took everything he had not to break free of Roy's arms and yell at him. "I know you aren't trying to seduce me," he whispered, his voice unable to produce anything louder. "But you _can't _love me. Not when…" Ed wanted to slap himself. He'd nearly said it.

"Not when what?" Roy's voice was starting to get defensive. Ed could feel his control slipping. He didn't want Roy to hate him for this, but he simply could not allow things to progress any further than they already had. Something wet touched his cheek, and he felt a tremble in the man holding him. Only then did he realize that it was not defensiveness in Roy's tone. He had been trying not to cry. Ed leaned back, turning his head until he saw the wet trails that now went to his jaw line.

Letting his head rest on Roy's shoulder, he closed his eyes. "I can't…" he breathed, trying to explain in the only way he knew how, "…I can't let you love me. Everyone that does is taken away…" It was true that he did get Al back, and that he had friends, but those years when his brother was only a shell of himself were unbearable. Now, with someone else in his life that meant just as much to him, Ed was not prepared to allow that person to be hurt because of him.

"Ed," Roy began, before moving them to sit on the couch. He arranged them in a very comfortable fashion, but it still gave Ed pain. He was pressed against Roy's chest, and the very nearness of him drove the knife of regret a little further into his chest. Fingers began carding through his hair, and Ed closed his eyes. "Ed, don't push me away because you're afraid." After a short pause, he said, "I don't want to be close to you, only to have you even farther away than before. We're in the military, so there's no way to guarantee that we won't have to go to war. One or both of us may be killed. That's no reason to put yourself through Hell because you don't want to lose something."

He knew he was going to be sorry later, but sometimes Roy made way too much sense. Ed buried his face in the other man's chest, and cried. He cried so long and hard that when he was done, the front of Roy's pajama shirt was wet. The entire time, he could hear that voice in his ear, whispering that it would be fine, that he had nothing to fear. When Ed lifted his head, he was presented with a soft tissue, which he used to wipe his face. For some reason, he felt much better. "Okay," he said, his voice still hoarse, but with a resolute edge, "you love me, then. What now?"

Roy smiled, a soft, gentle kind of smile that Ed hadn't ever seen on him before. He was discovering that this man had many different kinds of smiles, and so far, there weren't any that he didn't like. "Well," said the dark-eyed man as he pushed a fall of hair behind Ed's ear, "I think the first step would be getting you home."

Ed was suddenly confused. "Home? Why?"

Yet another smile appeared, this one laced with mischief. "Because you haven't any clothes here, and I would like to take you out."

Golden eyes widened in surprise. "You mean…like a _date_?"

"No," Roy said in a tone that bordered on lecturing, as if he were merely correcting Ed's bad grammar. "Not _like_ a date. Just…a date. How does lunch and a movie sound?"

Now Ed's face broke into a massive grin, and he squeezed Roy around the middle. "Sounds good to me."

* * *

Roy sat on the small blue couch in Ed and Al's apartment. He wore a brown sport coat, and dark green trousers. His pale blue shirt was crisply ironed, and he had remembered to remove his shoes. But as he sat there, with Al staring at him the way he was, he could not help but feel as if he had done something dreadfully wrong.

The young man surprised him, however, when his face softened and he said, "So I guess you two are…what? Together or something?"

Ed had been in the back of the apartment for less than five minutes, so there was little chance of him walking in on this conversation. Still, he didn't think Ed would appreciate it much if he talked about something that hadn't really even started yet. "Something like that, yes."

Al nodded, and then continued playing what might add up to the game of Twenty Questions. "First date today?" Roy nodded. "Where are you going?"

"I'm taking him to lunch. Then we'll see if there is a movie that seems good enough. I'll have him home before dark, I promise." It was hard to resist throwing in that last bit. Alphonse truly needed to ease up. Roy was just about to say so when Twenty Questions suddenly turned into the Riot Act.

Standing up from his seat, and walking over to where Roy now sat, Al leaned down until his face was level with Roy's. Golden eyes hardened as he spoke, but he somehow managed to do so with a smile. "I swear on my mother's grave, Roy, if you hurt my brother again, they'll never find your body." Roy's eyes widened, and he felt a chill down his spine. How long they stayed that way, staring at one another, he did not know. But it must have been a couple of minutes at least, because Ed's footsteps were what made Al back off. The bitch of it was that the little bastard acted as if he hadn't suddenly threatened Roy's life. There was a spark of dislike trying to kindle in him now, and he really wanted it to die. Roy wanted to like Al, but the young man was making it quite difficult to do so. Al did not seem to be able to forgive him for that morning.

All thoughts of his new enmity with Alphonse faded to the back of his mind when Edward emerged from the back of the apartment. He was just finishing the braid that was drawn over one shoulder, wrapping a dark brown elastic band around the end before tossing it behind him. Roy stared past Al, watching Ed's progress as he entered the room. The dark red sweater he wore seemed to make his eyes glow, causing their golden hue shine in a way Roy had never really noticed before. Ed also wore a pair of dark gray pants, and padded through the room on black-socked feet.

It was his first words that took Roy most by surprise, however. "Al," Ed said in an offhand sort of way as he picked lint off the arm of his sweater, "I hope you've decided to play nice." The younger Elric's face began to turn a dull reddish color, as if he were ashamed at being caught, just as his mouth drew down in a frown, because it was plain that he thought he'd get away with it. Roy suddenly felt the very strong urge to kiss Edward. As it was, he thought it might traumatize Alphonse, and he didn't need any more reason for the kid to hate him. So, he merely stood from his seat.

"Shall we go?" he asked, offering his arm to Ed, even though he knew it would not be accepted.

He got a smack on the shoulder—by a flesh hand, thankfully—and was shoved toward the door. "You're being stupid _again_, Roy," Ed grumbled as they bent to put on their shoes.

Holding back a chuckle, Roy managed to keep his voice grave as he asked, "Can I open the door for you, or will I get clubbed in the head?"

When he looked over his shoulder, Ed was blushing. "Opening the door is fine," Came the mumbled reply. Roy frowned. He had not meant to embarrass him, so he kept his mouth shut.

* * *

Ed smiled. It had been a good day. Their lunch was quiet, and though the movie had been sold out, it was far more pleasant to spend the afternoon browsing book shops. Roy had insisted upon walking him back up to his apartment, and Ed had not refused him. Now, unlocking his door, he could feel the weight of those dark eyes as they rested on him, and while different, he could not say that it was unpleasant. "Would you like to come in?" He asked, without looking over his shoulder.

"I think I'd like that, Edward." Roy's voice was very close to his ear, now. What was it about the way he drew out Ed's name like that? He only did it part of the time, but when he did, Ed could almost _feel_ his knees turning to jelly. He opened the door a crack, but Roy's hand stopped him. Looking back over his right shoulder, he found himself nose to nose with Roy's pale face. "Wait a moment." And then he felt lips on his, soft yet insistent, and completely overwhelming. His fingers slipped from the knob they were holding, moving to take hold of the older man's lapel. Pulling slightly brought their lips into greater contact, and he heard a low groan that he wasn't sure was his or Roy's.

The next few moments went by in a hazy, warm blur, until he heard a very unwelcome sound. "Ahem." Ed gave a small jump, and Roy straightened. The intruder stood in the doorway, looking quite miffed. Blonde hair fell across a fair forehead, and light brown eyes looked sharply at the both of them. Riza Hawkeye regarded them with an air of amusement mixed with ire, if that can be believed. "I see the two of you have finally come to your senses." Ed opened his mouth, but she silenced him with a raised hand. Riza then held out an envelope to Roy, and bid them farewell when the General had taken it.

They stood there, in the hall, Roy looking at the large manila envelope. The atmosphere had gone from intense to awkward to tense much faster than Ed had ever thought possible. "Maybe we should go in," Ed said, feeling oddly stiff. "It probably wouldn't be a good idea for you to read official correspondence in the hallway." Roy nodded distractedly, and they entered the apartment. Al was sitting with his feet up on the coffee table in the living room, reading one of his cookbooks, obviously trying to figure out what he was going to make for dinner. He grumbled a greeting at Ed and Roy, not looking up from his book.

Roy began opening the envelope, and Ed made his way toward the kitchen, intent upon making a pot of tea. The way he figured it, whatever was in that envelope must be pretty important, since Riza came all the way over here and waited for them. Therefore, he would give him a few minutes to look over it in peace.

Ten minutes later, the three of them were sitting on the couch and chairs, drinking tea, and Ed was listening to what the senior alchemist termed 'the craziest idea the Fuhrer has ever come up with'. "According to this," Roy said in his most businesslike tone, "the powers that be are beginning a specialized training program for the new state alchemists." Ed nodded. So far, it sounded pretty normal, so he didn't know what Roy was so upset about. Of course, it's always right when your guard drops that the bomb falls. "She wants to hold the training program in a…rather harsh environment." At that, Ed's eyes began to narrow. If he knew that woman—and he did—then the 'harsh environment' would include shit-tons of snow, and very grumpy alchemists. So focused on this thought was he, in fact, that he almost missed the last part, when Roy said, "And she wants _you_ to run the thing."

Ed nearly dropped his cup. Blinking rapidly, he stuttered, "I…I'm sorry. What did you say?"

Roy set the papers gently down in his lap. He fixed Ed with a solemn gaze. "You'll be leaving for Mt. Briggs in a few days, Ed. Madame Olivia has decided that you are the best candidate for creating and running this program." Ed could not tell what Roy was thinking, because his entire face was closed, devoid of emotion. The air in the room suddenly felt very heavy, and Ed was having trouble breathing it. He was handed a small stack of papers, and Roy said, "These are the details. You're expected to meet with Her Excellency tomorrow morning at seven to be fully briefed."

Ed watched helplessly as Roy got up to leave. He didn't even say goodbye when he went to the door; didn't look back when he left. Something inside Ed felt like it was dying. Why did he do that? Why'd he have to act so cold? There was a noise from Al, something like a snort, and Ed looked up. Al looked like he was smiling. Had everyone suddenly gone mad? Very suddenly, Ed decided that he did not want to be here. Instead of sitting there impotently as he would have done, wondering what on earth was going on, he ran to the coat rack, and gathered up the jacket he'd abandoned only a few minutes earlier. Then, he made good use of the stairs.

* * *

Roy was just getting into his car when he saw Edward burst from the front door of the apartment building. His jacket was flapping open, and his hair had begun to come loose. Quite simply, the younger man looked frantic. He was also strangely beautiful. "Roy, stop!" This was what he'd been afraid of. He had not wanted to see Ed before he left, because if he did, there was no way he'd be able to let him go. Not ever. Not without it ripping his heart out of his chest. But as he stood there, one foot inside the car, half crouched, he could not leave. Ed walked around the front of the car, coming to stand very close. "Where are you going?"

He could see the hurt in Ed's eyes, and for once wished that it wasn't so easy to read him. This would be easier if Ed could pretend to be okay. But he never had been very good at that. "I don't know," he replied, because he honestly had no idea where he would have gone. He probably would end up at the bar, drown in Scotch for a while, and then go home. Because Ed leaving now, just when they had…it was too much. It was—

"Take me with you."

"What?" Roy blurted, unable to process what had just come out of Ed's mouth. In answer, the shorter man grabbed his coat collar and pulled him down, nearly taking his breath away completely when he kissed him. Roy's brain turned to mush. He was unable to think; not about the fact that they were in the street, that it was just past three in the afternoon, and cars were whizzing past. People were bound to see. Somewhere in Roy's head, he knew this, but _nowhere_ in his mind did he care.

It was difficult to care, especially when Ed only removed his lips from Roy's just long enough to repeat himself, "I don't care where you're going, Roy. Just…take me with you." Now, at such an honest and heartfelt request, the General found himself utterly powerless to do else other than obey. In less than two minutes, they were on their way to parts unknown, together.

* * *

**A/N: **A note on canon and accuracy: I'm not exactly sure what it was that Trisha Elric died of. Though I've seen the Anime, I have only gotten through 1 volume of the Manga, so if there's any detail that I've missed on that account, please forgive me. For the purposes of this story, Trisha died of cancer. Also, where age is concerned, I'm basing age off of Edward, who is 20. All other ages should be adjusted accordingly in your minds, to avoid that increasingly pesky confusion over child pron.

**R E V I E W.**


	7. VII: Dearest

**A/N:** Now you should all be happy. You'll have closure for the story, and get some rather nice steamy love scene. And a surprise at the end. But no more of that. Enjoy, and review, because if you don't, I'll cry.

**Warnings:**

**FL--**Foul Language

**S-ai--**Shounen-ai

**Y--**Yaoi

**Title:** Demon In the Design (or… A Good Idea At the Time)

**Series:** Full Metal Alchemist

**Pair:** Roy/Ed

**Begun:** November 3, 2008

**Complete:** December 30, 2008

**Summary:** Prank wars never end well. Design, Deception, Denial and Decision take Roy Mustang to an unexpected Destination.

* * *

**VII: **Dearest

Edward James Elric stood uncomfortably in the middle of the room. There was only one chair here, and it was occupied. Seated behind the large oak desk was a rather lovely woman of approximately forty-five years. The woman's eyes stared at Ed as if attempting to discover some way to dismantle him. Olivia Armstrong had always had that effect on him—and he suspected many others. Ed had always felt as if he were being analyzed. At the moment, the cause for such intense scrutiny was that she awaited his answer to her 'suggestion' that he create and run a new combat training program for the new state alchemists. He flinched when a small muscle beneath her eye twitched.

"I do not have all day," came her harsh, clipped tones; A simple, yet grating statement of fact.

Ed took only one more split second to consider his reply. The only way that he could figure to answer was to ask a question of his own. "No offense intended, Madame Fuhrer, but why me?"

At this, a smile formed on her lips. She snapped her fingers, and as if from nowhere, the recently promoted Lieutenant Colonel Miles produced a file folder. With precise motion, her hands had taken and opened the manila folder. Hard eyes skimmed the words before them. "Your commanding officer has filed several commendations on your behalf, Major. General Mustang cites your almost encyclopedic knowledge of widely varied alchemical methods, as well as your refusal to…" she looked at the page more closely, "… 'take bullshit', I believe were his exact words. Extensive combat experience, and the ability to improvise, as well as that stubborn attitude are the perfect combination for what I have in mind." Ed was not sure what to say. Roy had said those things about him? He fought back the blush that threatened to form on his cheeks. Instead of a verbal reply, he thought it best to simply nod at the praise. At this, the Fuhrer continued. "Of course," she said as she pulled out a drawer, "I would not normally allow a Major to do this."

Before he knew what was happening, something black was flying at his head, and it took all of his considerable reflexes to catch it. His white-gloved hand came into contact with the flat velvet box at a high rate of speed, and Ed was suddenly grateful that he'd caught it at all, and that he'd done so with his auto-mail hand. The hinge gave a small creak when he opened it, and Ed found himself staring at a new set of shoulder boards. The gold embroidery glittered in the light of the room, but Ed's mouth hung open at the sight of two gold stars situated in the middle of the things.

"I will accept no refusals." Armstrong said, "And I also believe that you remember my attitude about failure."

After a moment, when he had recovered, Ed snapped the box shut, and gave a deep bow. "Thank you, Madame Fuhrer. I will do my best."

He straightened to see a smirk on her face. "Then I suppose we'll see in a few months how acceptable your _best_ is, Lieutenant Colonel Elric. Dismissed." On his way out of the room, Ed dropped a salute, and then closed the door behind him. Outside the office, in the hall, he slumped against the wall. Closing his eyes, he sighed. It looked like he was going to be spending the next four months in a place that was colder than a well digger's ass, even in the summer. Yipee.

Four hours later, he sat across the table from Winry in a small café, not far from headquarters. She had apparently been requested by the Fuhrer, who had ordered a fresh set of cold weather auto-mail for Ed. According to Winry, she had been contacted more than a week ago. "So when do you leave?" she asked quietly, sipping at a cup of hot chocolate.

"The day after tomorrow. I'll be taking the four-fifteen train." He leaned on his hand, and glanced out of the window. The day had turned out to be dull and gray, and Ed was not in the best of moods. It was obvious that things were being decided for him, and he'd always hated that. But then again, he supposed that this was what he got for staying in the military. He had only done so because he did not know where he would end up if he resigned his commission, or what he would do for money. Being in the army was a steady source of income, and they'd pretty much left him to himself where his research was concerned. Up until now, that is.

Winry's voice was even softer than before when she said, "I went to your apartment." Ed looked back at her face, which was somewhat sad. "Al had some opinions that were…less than nice about you and the General. Is it true? Are the two of you _together_?" It was almost comical, the way she stressed the word. It reminded him of when they were in elementary school. Nonetheless, Ed gave a slow nod. Winry nodded as well, but then fixed him with a serious look. "Ed, you need to talk to Al. He feels like you're going to leave him alone."

He gave a start, and blinked rapidly. "Why?" His friend then explained that they'd always been together, very close, even for brothers. Now, there was a part of his life into which Al was not allowed. A corner of Ed's heart was reserved for someone else, and it was clear that Alphonse had begun to grow jealous. "Okay. I'll straighten him out on a few things when I get home. But let me ask you. How do _you_ feel about it?"

It was now Winry's turn to be surprised. She stared at him for a few moments, and then a small smile formed on her face. It was a sad smile, which he knew the cause of, and was a bit sick over because he could do nothing about it. "I don't think there's anything wrong with it, if that's what you mean. Anyway, I knew a long time ago that…well, it's all in the past now. As long as you're happy, Ed, that's all that matters to me. You are happy, aren't you?"

"Yes," he said, wanting to keep it simple, and not give away just how much he wished to be spending his last few hours in Central City with the very person whom they were discussing. He heard Winry mutter something under her breath, something that resembled 'worse than I thought'. Ed brushed it off. He then asked, "So when do you want to change out my auto-mail?" Winry answered that she would like to do it the next morning, and that they should do it at headquarters. There was a large gymnasium in the first sub-basement that had just been completed. They would ask Al to come along, and Winry would observe their spar test.

* * *

Roy's feet moved quickly. It was ten past four. Ed's train would be leaving in five minutes, and he'd wanted to see him off. The last two days had been a mad dash to gather all of the equipment that his subordinate requested, and Roy had barely slept. He picked up his pace as he neared the side door to the station. While he had resigned himself to the current situation, it did not mean that he liked it. Being away from Ed so soon would not be good for his mood.

Turning a corner, the first thing he saw was the back of Edward's new assistant. Though the new Lieutenant Colonel had insisted that it was unnecessary, the Fuhrer had been adamant that his new duties would require the aid of another person. Lieutenant Alice Pendleton was a tall woman, nearly Roy's height, and slender. She had long black hair that was held back in a low bun, secured by several very sharp pins, the end of each being capped by the Amestrian crest. The woman apparently had sharp hearing, as well, because she turned around, and her piercing green eyes were suddenly regarding him in a measuring sort of way. Roy ignored her, looking over her shoulder toward the small knot of people that had gathered to wish Ed farewell.

Al stood close to his brother, delivering last minute advice on the cold, and how to keep from getting frostbite. Winry was shoving a container of oil into Ed's hand, and Shezka was off to one side, holding a small stack of books that she had decided might be useful for the purposes of Ed's training program. "Okay, okay, Al. You told me all this yesterday, too." He heard Ed saying. To Winry, he said, "How often should I oil it?" She gave him an answer, and he nodded.

"Sir," came a very cool feminine voice, which Roy identified as Lieutenant Pendleton's, "Sir, General Mustang is here." Ed turned around very quickly, and even faster, his face was split in an enormous smile. He dropped a rather decent salute, and stepped toward Roy.

"I thought you wouldn't show," Ed said, his smile widening and letting Roy know that he thought nothing of the sort.

Roy gave a smile of his own, and cocked his head slightly to the left, "That's what you get for thinking, Lieutenant Colonel." It was an infantile thing to say, surely, but they'd never really been mature around others. He wanted to drag Ed off and give him a _proper_ goodbye, but that would not do. Roy knew very well that he would make the young man miss his train if it came to that. "I expect your progress reports once a week," he said in a grave tone, to which Ed nodded. It appeared that he was taking this new responsibility very seriously. Reaching into his coat, he pulled a small envelope from his inner pocket. "This contains further instructions. They're from me, not from the Fuhrer." The unspoken addition to this was that the 'instructions' were a personal request, and had nothing to do with Ed's progress reports.

"I'll be sure to follow them to the letter," Ed replied as he took the envelope.

The smile on Roy's face became a bit warmer. "I expect nothing less from you."

"Pardon my intrusion, General," came Lieutenant Pendleton's voice again, this time on his right, "but we must be boarding the train." Roy watched as she held her hand out to Ed, as if to take the letter he'd been given by his commanding officer. Ed stared blankly at her. "It is part of my job to handle your correspondence, Lieutenant Colonel."

Ed gave a small sniff, and slipped the envelope into his jacket. "Well, you're not _handling_ my _correspondence_ with the General, Lieutenant, whether it be part of your duties or not." She looked as if she were going to protest, but Ed stopped her with only a motion of his hand. "Don't make me order you to stay out of my personal affairs, Alice." At this, the woman colored slightly, her pale skin turning a shade of pink that was actually rather becoming. Roy wasn't sure whether she was affronted because of Ed's wish for the letter to remain private, or because he'd used her given name. Then again, from the look in the Lieutenant's eyes, it might be that she realized what Ed meant by 'personal affairs'.

Sounds of the engine letting off steam began to fill the platform, and Ed moved toward the train. He waved at his friends, and gave Roy a salute, saying, "I'll see you all in four months," and then he was on the train. Roy watched as he seated himself in his little compartment, the stiff figure of Alice Pendleton sitting across from him. It really was too bad that his assistant was so uptight. But then again, there were several people at Fort Briggs that would be much easier to get along with. Ed was staring out of the widow now, directly at him. His head was turned away from his assistant, who was looking down at something in her lap. Just as the train jerked into motion, he saw Ed mouthing words at him.

"I'll miss you, too," Roy said quietly, before the train pulled away. It would be a very long four months, indeed.

* * *

Alice Marie Pendleton stood outside her commanding officer's door, staring at the heavy, dark wood. Edward Elric was a difficult man to work for. He had little regard for propriety, and even less for military etiquette. Just this morning when she'd gone to collect him for breakfast, the Lieutenant Colonel had answered his door wearing nothing more than his underwear. It had taken Alice nearly a full minute to be able to speak after that indignity. Then again, Alice thought, he was more polite than any of the heathens that called this God-forsaken place their home.

It had been six weeks since they'd arrived, and it took that long just to set up the training facility at the remains of the old mine nearby the base. That, and the Lieutenant Colonel had been forced by the weather to use his alchemy to excavate a tunnel to the main shaft of the mine, so that the trainees could go from the barracks to classes each day. Now, it being nearly midday, she was come to fetch him for lunch. For some reason, when he was working on anything that required more concentration than ordering what he wanted to eat, Alice was ejected quite abruptly from the room.

For this reason, she had set up a small desk in a nook in the chill of the hallway. And it was this position that allowed her to intercept all of the Lieutenant Colonel's correspondence. There was a lot of it to be had, surely, but he refused to allow her the ability to screen it. Her thoughts on the annoyance caused by his independent nature were interrupted rudely, just as always.

"Get in here, Alice," she heard him growl, and she let out a small curse under her breath at getting caught up in her own thoughts. She reached out for the knob, turned it, and then admitted herself into the chaos that was Lieutenant Colonel Edward Elric's office.

Before leaving for Fort Briggs, several very specific requests had been pushed through by the Fuhrer on Elric's behalf. The office was the largest room that could be spared, approximately twenty meters long by sixteen wide. All of the wall space was taken up either by bookshelves that held his personal alchemy library, or with charts containing relationships between various alchemical circles. The only exception to this was a small shelf containing photographs of his mother, brother, the blonde mechanic girl, and one group photo of all people under the command of Roy Mustang.

This shelf was directly behind the Lieutenant Colonel, who sat at his desk. He was looking over the mail she had brought in a few hours earlier. Without looking up, he said testily, "I hate it when you lurk outside like that, Alice."

Raising one eyebrow, and in a voice that was equally annoyed, she answered, "And I dislike it thoroughly when you call me by my first name, Lieutenant Colonel."

She thought she saw him smile nastily, but it might have been her imagination. "Like it or not," he murmured, "I am not one for formality. I'll call you by your name and treat you like a human being, and I expect the same thing from you, unless we're in a situation that calls for being stiff and idiotic." Alice sighed, but finally nodded, knowing that he saw it even if he was not looking directly at her. "Don't just stand by the door," he waved at the chair nearest his desk. "Sit down."

Alice weaved her way around the tables that had been set up here. Test tubes, shining in the ample light, were filled with liquids that were dripping into them from flasks and coiled glass tubes. She knew that some emitted foul odors, and that under no circumstances was she to touch any of them. Therefore, she kept her arms at her sides, and walked as close to the center of each narrow aisle as she could. When she came to stand in front of his desk, ignoring the indicated chair, she said, "Sir, it's time for lunch." As always, he seemed surprised by the amount of time that had passed.

There was one thing that Alice was unable to fault him on…he was certainly quite dedicated. After looking startled for a moment more, he levered himself from his seat, and picked up his coat. It was standard issue cold weather gear, the light gray fur lining the hood falling around his shoulders along with the hair he'd begun wearing mostly down for warmth. If only he were a bit taller, Alice might find him attractive. But as she had learned quickly, it was a very bad thing to say anything about his physical stature.

They walked out of the office together, and down the hall. "The new recruits should be arriving this evening," he said as they turned the corner toward the stairs. "Have all of the things I ordered been prepared?"

"Yes sir. The barracks room is ready, as are the classroom and training areas."

The door to the stairs loomed ahead, and Edward checked for ice before heading up. His smile was somewhat sadistic when he said, "Then we'll see what these boys are made of, come sunrise."

* * *

Roy sat in his study, clothed in his pajamas and a warm robe. Before him on the desk, there lay a small pile of letters. After the first week, Roy began to receive two of these a week. Ed had at first written short messages, to let him know how things were going, how he felt, how he was annoyed with the assistant they'd assigned him. Roy wrote back, letting him know how things were, how he felt, and how much he missed Ed. It had now been two months since Ed had gone, and he could feel the strain.

Sometimes, he could smell Ed on his sheets, even though he washed them once a week. Roy heard Ed's voice in crowded places, and often found himself indulging in the ridiculous habit of looking around to see if the younger man was there. But perhaps the worst thing of all was the way he'd begun to drift off, not quite daydreaming, at the least opportune times. If not for Hawkeye, he'd have missed several very important details during meetings. The subject matter of such daydreams was not precisely surprising, but wholly inappropriate for work situations.

It had only gotten worse since a month ago. He glanced at the stack of letters, his eyes catching the first of the letters that, to him, marked a change in his and Ed's relationship. It had come with his progress reports, but Roy always kept Ed's letters to read just before he went to bed. This was unlike any of the letters he'd gotten. It talked at first about the usual things, like the fact that Alice had begun to loosen up, that he thought she might have started getting laid…and other general gossip. Ed had then begun a short—too short, in Roy's opinion—description of a dream he'd had. It involved a large bathtub, hot water, and a woefully abbreviated explanation of what the two of them had done in the tub while wearing not a scrap of clothing. Of course, Roy had written him back, asking for an elaboration on the dream, explaining that he was beginning to have similar experiences, only while he was awake as well.

And elaborate, Edward had. Roy groaned as he thought of the detail with which Ed had described sensation, touch, and taste. In return, he had responded with an account of one of his favorite daydreams. Ed's next letter—a week after Roy sent his—contained a confession that he had found this daydream highly appealing. Surprisingly, it also held another highly detailed recounting of a terrifically erotic dream. Things had progressed from there, and after a short exchange of pleasantries, there was always some retelling of a dream, a wish, or a fantasy. Roy responded in kind, and the result was surprising. He had somewhat more control over his mind during the day, and could perform well at work. At night, however, when he got home, it was completely different.

A couple of his letters from Ed had gotten a bit sticky, as he could not help but touch himself as he read them. He did not ask if Ed did the same, because he was certain that the younger man did. And now, there was a new letter. It sat there, slightly crumpled at the corners, ink on the address slightly smudged. He drank his whiskey slowly, letting the anticipation mount. Finally, when there was little more than ice left, he reached for the letter. The sound of the letter opener slitting the crease at the top of the envelope filled the space, and he reached inside.

_Dear Roy,_

_I hope you're doing well, and are feeling fine. Alice has a cold, and is unable to help me, not as if I need it. Morris has been bothering me of late, and won't leave off. But then again, I'm sure you guessed as much, since you went to the academy with him. It just makes me miss you more. If you were here, I know that you'd be able to think of a way to make him leave me alone._

The days have begun to grow bitterly cold. I have begun sleeping with heated bricks in my bed. All of my pleasant thoughts now seem to involve heat, and you. Last night, I dreamt of the hot spring near my apartment. It's shaded by willows, and very beautiful in winter. Snow falls on the rocks, but lightly, since the trees filter most of it away. The water is very warm, and your skin turned pink. I can still feel it.

My back dug into the freezing hardness of the largest boulder, but your skin was so hot…sweat and water made you slide against me. You leaned over me, hair tickling my face, and pressed our bodies close. Your hands are big, Roy. They're slightly rough, too. They held onto me, gripping my hips to keep me from moving. It was torture, because I needed to feel you. You tease me too much, never touching me enough, or not as hard as I need. You were hard against my leg, rubbing against me, but not where I needed you. And then there's your mouth. Sometimes I think you must be the devil. The way you use your tongue…Oh, God…

Roy could feel himself growing aroused, not at the detail of the letter, because this was not so graphic as a couple of the previous ones. It was the way Edward was becoming so frustrated at how he teased him, and his inability to describe how good it felt. The rest of the letter was much the same, ending after hours of Roy teasing him, bringing him to the brink of climax only to start all over again. The end came when they finally made love, Roy sensing Edward's growing need in every word.

Only two more months, He thought, somewhat desperately.

* * *

Ed leaned against the door to his room. The letter…he had not read Roy's letter. For some reason, he could function perfectly well while he trained the new alchemists, but when he was alone, he tended more and more to think of Roy. And each time he got a letter from the older man, he could barely contain his anticipation. It was, perhaps, because he knew that it gave him fodder for the fantasies that often caused him to wake up in the middle of the night with the undeniable, unavoidable need to masturbate.

Without thinking, he locked the door. He slid to the floor, ripping open the envelope.

Dear Edward,

Your last letter was beautiful. I find myself wondering what your skin is really like. Is it as soft as it is in my dreams? Is it just slightly tan, like your hands and face? All of it?

I was in my office today, sitting at my desk, and suddenly, I thought it would be nice if you were there. Because if you were there, I could lock the door, and get you out of that dratted uniform. I started imagining what it would be like. Would you like the couch? Or would you want to shove the paperwork off of the desk…and make love there? Then I thought of several different possibilities where that was concerned…which led to the following:

I must have done something awful. You barged into my office, just like you did on that day, the door slamming into the wall, and a map fell to the floor, glass shattering. Then you slammed the door shut again, and locked it behind you. There was a fire in your eyes that frightened me a little, but then again, it made me a bit excited, as well. In my dreams, you're always the most passionate when you're angry with me. And then you were walking toward me, a kind of predatory grace about you.

You slipped around the side of the desk, and stood over me, leaning down so that your voice was the only thing I could hear over my own heartbeat. "Roy," you said, "I think you need to apologize."

"I'm sorry," I said, but my voice did not sound at all remorseful.

Did you know that your eyes seem to glow when you're angry? I can't look away from them. It's like being hypnotized. And right then, as mesmerized as I was, you could have made me walk down the hallway in my underwear, on a leash. But you didn't. What you did was so much worse.

"I don't think you really mean that," you said, running a finger down my cheek. I tried to look away from you, but you grabbed at my chin, forcing me to look into your eyes. "Tell me," you said, "how I should deal with you." Then I couldn't feel your hand anymore, because you grabbed the arms of the chair and turned me fully toward you. Leaning on the chair, you bent forward even more, so that I could feel your breath on my neck. "Should I punish you, Roy?" Teeth bit hard on my neck, below where my collar was. "Or should I show you what happens when you're a good boy?"

It was hard to breathe, let alone speak, but somehow I managed to say, "Either one works for me, Edward."

And then you smiled. You stood up, and you smiled at me, and my brain did turn to jelly. "Up you get," you said, and I got up. I never will understand why clothes seem to disappear in dreams. Taking them off is one of the best parts. It's just excruciating, the anticipation. But it was a dream, after all, and somehow our clothing managed its usual disappearing act. I kicked the chair to one side, and you shoved away my papers. The next thing I felt was cool wood on my bare ass, and the heat of your body between my legs…

Edward blinked at the letter. Roy had some very…interesting ideas. The rest of the letter contained imagery that would haunt even his usually productive training sessions with the students. That night, he muffled his cries with his pillow, for otherwise, he surely would have woken up half of the barrack house.

* * *

Roy Mustang stood on the platform, a little way off from where Alphonse was. Unsure how to approach the young man, he kept his distance. It was the last thing he wanted to remain at loggerheads with Al, but there was little to be done, outside of beating the kid to a pulp. Then again, Roy wasn't sure he could beat Al to a pulp. While he wasn't out of shape, he'd already taken a beating against the younger Elric, and he did not want a repeat of that incident.

The sound of a train pulling into the station sounded, and Roy looked to the east. Sure enough, there was a white plume of steam, and the black grill of the engine coming toward them. "Lieutanant," he said, and Hawkeye straightened, "please alert the enlisted men to stand by." Immediately, his assistant turned to the ten men that were lounging nearby, barking orders. They'd been brought to retrieve Ed's cargo crates from the freight cars, and take them to Central Headquarters, where they would be unpacked in a newly finished office, and arranged to the young alchemist's exacting specifications. When Riza returned to his side, he said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Sir. Should I expect you at work tomorrow, Sir?" Roy looked sideways at Riza. She was smiling slightly.

"Tomorrow is Saturday, Lieutenant." Saturday or not, Roy had, in the past four months, worked every day possible. It kept his mind off of the fact that there was nothing else to do with his time. Well, there could have been, since neither he nor Ed had said anything about their relationship being exclusive, but Roy knew different. He had known since he woke up with Edward in his bed that he would never want to see anyone else in his place. Now that Ed was come back, he would no longer be working weekends.

The train lurched to a stop, and after a few moments, passengers began filing out. Families greeted soldiers returned home, merchants met with associates, but he did not see Ed. The enlisted men had begun retrieving the cargo, which was precisely where it should be, but where was its owner? A hand touched his shoulder, and he gave a start. Turning, he saw what was possibly the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes upon.

Ed stood in front of him, looking the same, yet different. He was a bit paler than before, and wore his hair mostly down, with only part of it pulled back in a braid. The smile on his face was somewhat nervous. Straightening, he snapped off a very good salute. "General Mustang," he said, "good to see that you're well."

Returning the salute, Roy answered, "At ease, Lieutenant Colonel. You're among friends." When Ed had relaxed visibly, he added, "Welcome home, Ed." Then Roy looked over Ed's shoulder to see Alphonse staring hard at them. "Al's here, too." Ed gave a guilty twitch, and ran over to see his younger brother.

Riza leaned closer to him, and said, "I'll deal with your paperwork for today."

Roy considered that statement, and what it implied. Then, a sudden and very devious idea came to mind. "Negative, Lieutenant. I have a job for you."

* * *

Riza Hawkeye was, once again, in a bad position, and just like every other time before, she only had Roy to blame for it. Why had he insisted that she do this? The bar was warm, even in the coolness of early evening. She stirred her drink with a finger, watching the young man across from her. He was, to put it lightly, drunk. At least this time he was not drooling. At the moment, Alphonse was babbling.

"…Don't understand what he sees in him. I mean, he's a jerk, isn't he? Brother's always said so." An utterly forlorn expression came over Al's youthful face, making him seem so much older than he was. "The things he's done…I can't forgive him. How can my brother? How can he love that son of a bitch?" Although she was unable to tell if he was talking to her or to himself, what he was saying only made her more annoyed than she was at her current assignment. Actually, if she were going to be truthful with herself, Alphonse Elric was quite dangerously close to pissing her off.

And if there was one thing to which Roy Mustang could attest, it was that a pissed off Riza Hawkeye was a force to be reckoned with. "Al, you're being closed-minded." To her, it was a simple statement of fact, but it seemed that the young man took it as a personal attack.

"What?!" he cried, his palms slapping against the tabletop. "Roy's an asshole for what he's done to my brother. He lied. He told Ed that he had cancer. And even before that, he treated him like some kind of errand boy. What in that list is supposed to endear him to me, Lieutenant?" He spat out her rank, as if because she worked with and for Roy, she was just as despicable as he considered her commander to be.

Al didn't know what hit him.

No one in the bar saw what Riza did, but it had been very simple. Riza had shoved her booted feet under Al's chair and kicked the underside of the seat, sending him backward, falling to the floor. And as he lay there, in obvious pain over his back where it had connected with the hard slats of the wooden chair, Riza calmly got to her feet. She stood over him, looming.

"Listen to me, Alphonse. Roy only pretended to have cancer to get back at your brother for something. Yes, he can be completely infantile, but just in case you had never noticed, your brother isn't the pinnacle of maturity, either." Al's mouth opened as if to retort, but then Riza leaned down, her jaw set in a hard line. "I don't appreciate interruptions, Alphonse." The only reply she received was a loud noise of swallowing. "Now, as I was saying…He thought that Edward was tougher than that. He said so himself. Roy never meant to hurt Edward, Alphonse, and he has spent the better part of a year apologizing for it. And furthermore, who do you think you are to judge your own brother's choices?"

For a long moment, Al stared dumbly at her, unable to say anything at all. Riza allowed her voice to soften as she settled to her knees at his side. "Don't think that I'm not aware of why you reacted so violently to their relationship. You're not going to lose him. He's still your brother." She could see tears forming in his eyes now, and though she did not regret her words—she had spoken only the truth—she knew that Alphonse was very sensitive. It had not been her intention to harm him.

"I don't want to be alone," he said in a quiet, rather desperate voice. Al flinched at his own words, and looked away.

"Are you always this stupid when you're drunk?" Riza asked, teasing him.

Grumbling, and sounding very much like Edward, he said, "I wouldn't know. Only ever been drunk once."

"Twice, now." She laughed, and helped him up. He stumbled, and she steadied him, making sure he was at arms length. The last thing she wanted was a repeat of his birthday party. "Come on, you drunk, you. I'll take you home." Al smiled somewhat goofily, and Riza wondered what he was thinking. On second thought, it might be better not to know.

* * *

They sat on the couch in the living room, lounging with their feet on the coffee table. Roy had undone the braid in Ed's hair, and was running his fingers through it, almost incessantly. Ed had never felt so content. "This feels good," he said, leaning back into Roy's chest. There was a soft noise of affirmation from behind him, and he allowed the fingers of his flesh hand to continue their current occupation of tracing circles over the leg of Roy's trousers. He didn't have to say how much he'd missed the way Roy touched him. Every letter, every brief telephone call, had been filled with it.

And when he saw the tall figure of his commanding officer standing there on the platform, looking around anxiously, he had almost run to him. It had taken every ounce of self-control he possessed not to jump on Roy and kiss him until breathing was not an option. Of course, the moment they entered Roy's house, Ed had found himself pressed against the back of the door, his breath stolen away in the most wonderful way imaginable. Half an hour later, they were on the couch, simply enjoying the fact that they could be in the same room.

Ed wanted to ask Roy about the letters, but was unsure how to do so. The erotic imagery made his heart beat faster. He wondered what such things would be like, and the more he thought about it, the more curious he became. After a few more minutes of thought, he said, "Do you really like it when I'm angry with you?"

He heard a chuckle next to his ear. "No, Ed. I don't think I'd like it if you were truly angry with me. That was just a fantasy. Or…maybe I wouldn't mind so much if you used your anger in the right way." This information only served to spark heat in the pit of his stomach. Lips brushed his ear, and Roy's voice fell into a deeper, almost growling tone. "But we can discover what that's like later. The first time we're together—whenever that might be—I want it to last. I want to be able to hold you while we make love."

A blush sprang to life on Ed's face. He wasn't sure why, because he had confessed to having some extremely lurid fantasies, himself. In theory, Ed thought he should have no shame. The warmth in his stomach spread a little, growing more intense when teeth grazed the shell of his ear, and he gave a small groan. "Wouldn't you prefer to take our time, Edward?" There it was again. Roy only had to say his full name like that, and Ed knew he would do anything asked of him. All he could do was make a small, almost meek noise as the side of Roy's face nuzzled at his neck. "Because…" something warm and wet flicked at his earlobe, and Ed's breath caught in his throat, "…I love you, Edward, and I want to make sure you know exactly how much."

Just when he gathered the presence of mind to realize that the 'something wet' had been Roy's tongue, it was back, caressing the soft, sensitive flesh. Ed could not stop the short moan that came from his mouth when his earlobe was pulled into Roy's mouth. The hands that had been in his hair then ran down his arms and back up again, before sneaking around his waist. "You're evil," Ed groaned as one of those hands began pulling his white uniform shirt from where it was tucked into his pants.

"But Edward," Roy's voice rumbled, "I haven't done anything yet."

Deft fingers worked at pearly white buttons, and Ed soon felt cool air on the skin of his chest, followed soon thereafter by the heat of Roy's hands. "Ah…liar…" It should be illegal for hands to feel that good. They weren't really doing anything special, either. Fingertips, slightly rough, played over the skin of defined pectoral muscles, only barely touching. Ed felt his back arching as his body instinctively sought more of that warm contact.

* * *

Roy's body trembled right along with his hands as he finished opening Ed's shirt. His eyes were closed, preferring to see the planes of muscle and sinew with the tips of his fingers. Slowly, he stroked over pectoral and abdominal muscles, learning the texture of Ed's skin. His mouth left Ed's ear, traveling down to nip at one of the larger tendons in a graceful neck. Every touch drew such intense responses, as if no one had ever laid hands upon him. For a moment, Roy's hands paused. Had no one..?

"Edward," he asked, his tone suddenly serious, "Have you never done…this before?"

He could feel the younger man stiffen. "No," he heard him say, "I never wanted to." Abruptly, he felt his hands being squeezed hard against warm flesh. "Don't stop, please."

Roy pressed his face into the crook of Ed's neck. "I won't. But don't let me do anything that makes you uncomfortable. Promise me, Edward." He had no wish to hurt his lover. Again, at the thought of Ed in such a capacity, his eyes slid shut. This was what he had wanted, needed for several very long months, but he wanted it to be pleasant for both of them. Ed had not answered. "Promise me," he said again, his voice more insistent.

"I promise, Roy."

"Thank you," Roy breathed, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of Ed, how it was cool and yet warm at once, and the way his somewhat smaller body seemed to fit so perfectly in the hollow of his arms. Ed let go of his hands, allowing them to go on exploring. In turn, Roy felt Ed's fingers running over the outside of his thighs.

Roy moved his fingers over Ed's sides, dragging nails over his ribs. Ed gave a long, soft groan. There was scarcely an area of the younger man's body that was not utterly responsive, as if it were one enormous erogenous zone. At that thought, Roy began sliding his hands lower, mirroring Ed's. They whispered over the blue wool of uniform pants, and Roy wondered at how he'd ever found that cloth to be soft, now that he'd touched Ed's skin. The longer he allowed his hands to linger on Ed's thighs, the shallower his companion's breathing became.

Curious, he opened his eyes and looked down over Ed's shoulder. Judging by the evident swelling in those blue trousers, Roy was decently well assured that Ed liked what he was doing. His curiosity led him to graze the smallest, softest touch over his lover's clothed arousal, which earned him a violent reaction.

Ed jerked, his body arching as he cried out wordlessly, and fell back in a limp heap against Roy's chest. After long moments of catching his breath, Ed half-turned, rubbing his face against the front of Roy's shirt. "Sorry," he said dreamily, "I guess I was a lot more wound up than I thought." Then, in a slightly more sober tone, "Hn…need clean pants…"

* * *

A few minutes later found Ed cleaned of his recent mess and swathed in a fluffy blue bathrobe. He sat on the edge of Roy's bed, feeling oddly relaxed. Shouldn't he be nervous? After all, he did not really know what to expect, so there should be some apprehension. Logically, he understood this to be true. But he could not remember the last time he had used the logical part of his mind when he thought of Roy.

The door to the bathroom opened momentarily, and from it came Roy, clothed in nothing more than a loosely fitting pair of drawstring lounge pants. Ed thought that it was a very good thing he was sitting down, otherwise he may have fallen over. Roy's skin was fair, but there were several large scars that looked like burns littering his chest, and upper arms. Somehow, Ed got shakily to his feet, taking the remaining few steps toward where the older man stood. He raised his left hand, tracing one of the scars on Roy's chest, near his collarbone. The scar tissue was a faded pink, and looked more recent than some of the others.

Roy shivered at the touch. Ed leaned forward, using his tongue to retrace the path his finger had taken. Hands reached out, resting on his shoulders, and he heard a low groan. Allowing his mouth to leave the scar, he paid lavish attention to the slender expanse of Roy's collarbone as his hands slid down to play over skin that had haunted his dreams. When he looked up, he saw that dark eyes were shut, fine features relaxed in an expression of blind awe. The feeling was, for Ed's part, mutual. "You're beautiful," he blurted, before he could stop himself, and Roy's eyes popped open to look down at him, and he blushed. But he had only been being honest, so he said, "You are beautiful," and reached out to touch the older man's cheek.

Roy only smiled, making him even more striking. The hands on his shoulders slid down, taking his hands. "Come with me," Roy said, releasing Ed's right hand and leading him to the bed. Roy seated himself, and Ed stood only inches away, feeling for the first time the way the other man's hand trembled as it held his. A moment later, that hand slipped away, and found its way—along with its mate—to the fluffy knot at Ed's waist. "May I?" Roy asked, and Ed nodded. The air was cool, but not cold, on his skin as the tie fell away, exposing him. When the robe slid to the floor, he heard a gasp.

"Roy?" he asked, suddenly concerned by the shocked expression on fair features. Did he think Ed was repulsive? Hands visibly shaking now, Roy touched Ed's stomach, tracing old scars, the indentions between muscles, moving over the slight roundness of his hips. Ed would never be able to describe the way it felt in those first few moments. It was the single most euphoric sensation he'd ever experienced, the way Roy seemed intent upon touching every inch of his skin, almost as if he were memorizing it.

The only exception to this exploration was the one place that Ed would very much like for Roy's hands to be. He was becoming more and more aroused now, and he had no illusions about the other man being so obtuse that he would not have noticed. His only conclusion after nearly five full minutes of this treatment was that Roy was teasing him. "Roy," he was slightly ashamed at how hopeless his voice sounded, "Touch me."

"Patience is a virtue, Edward," Roy admonished, the fingers of one hand grazing the skin of Ed's inner thigh and causing him to shudder. "You have never had that quality in great stores, though," he gave a minimal laugh, "so I suppose I can humor you…just this once." And then Ed nearly had his second climax of the evening, because not only were Roy's fingers ghosting over his still-forming erection, but his tongue was drawing fiery trails over his lower abdominal muscles.

He did not know how he ended up on the bed, because the next few moments were nothing more than a blur. When he next realized what was happening, Roy was lying next to him, teasing his arousal and studying his reactions. Ed thought that Roy was wearing too many clothes, and told him so.

Roy smiled and stood. He gently pulled the string at his waist, and Ed blinked repeatedly when the dark gray cotton fell in a heap to the floor. Oh, dear God, Ed thought, because that's what Roy looked like. His body was hardened by years of military training, and Ed's eyes could find no imperfections. Inwardly, he admitted that he was willing to use his hands to perform a closer examination, so when Roy slid back onto the bed, he promptly began doing precisely that.

Half an hour later, he still had found nothing wrong with Roy's body, though he had discovered that the older man liked very much for Ed to pay close attention to his hipbones. For what must have been the tenth time, he nipped at the slight protrusion, causing Roy's back to arch slightly. His fingers carded through soft, yet slightly wiry hair at the base of the erection that had formed due to his touches. Roy sighed in a contented way, and Ed smiled against his skin.

In his dreams, Roy had tormented him, using his mouth in ways that Ed had never thought possible. He supposed that even if it had only been a dream, he could return the favor, if only a little. The sound that ripped from Roy's throat when he ran his tongue across the length of his arousal was something like a strangled sob, and Ed felt the man's body begin to shake. Again and again, he repeated this motion, until he finally enveloped the very tip of it in his mouth. "Ahhhh…oh…" Roy groaned as Ed moved his mouth over him, his face contorting in a mask of pleasure that seemed almost painful.

It was not long at all before large hands landed on his shoulders, pushing him away. "Stop, Ed…" He said breathily, and Ed understood. If it felt anything like it had in his dreams, he understood very well how difficult it would be to hold back from the edge of oblivion. Roy pulled him down over his body, holding him close and peppering Ed's neck and the side of his face with small, feverish kisses. "It felt…far too good." Ed only nodded.

He shifted his legs, and his erection came into sudden and delicious contact with Roy's. Both men gasped, having been unaware that anything could feel quite so good. Roy managed to push himself into a seated position, and Ed found himself straddling his lap. He felt somewhat exposed, but it did not feel bad at all. How could it be bad to slide against Roy the way he was? Their bodies seemed to have a mind of their own as they moved, sliding and rocking, all the while bringing them closer to the darkness beyond euphoria.

Ed was dimly aware of Roy's left arm reaching out, fumbling at something, stopping. Then there was something slightly cool and liquid pouring over his erection, and he gave a start, looking down. His eyes widened. Roy had apparently had the presence of mind to retrieve a small bottle of massage oil from the night table drawer, and was now spreading it over both of them. "Ah…R…Roy…I…I can't…" It felt too good.

"Ssssh," Roy whispered, one hand pressing into his back to pull him close, the other still smoothing over his erection slowly, torturing him so sweetly that he thought he may go mad. "Let it come, Edward," the other man's voice was rough with what Ed now recognized as desire, and he did as Roy said. He relaxed, letting the sensation wash over him, feeling wave after wave of it until it inundated his entire being, and drowning him in pleasure.

* * *

Edward was beautiful. Hair was beginning to stick to the sides of his face as his body had developed a sheen of perspiration. His head fell backward, exposing more of his throat, and it was more temptation than Roy could resist. He took good advantage of it and began to pay homage to the man that was fast becoming his one and only god. Ed gave a low groan as he reached his climax, still moving against Roy in the most sinful of ways.

Roy proceeded carefully after quickly using a tissue to clean Edward of his mess. He applied the oil to his fingers, slowly administering just enough pressure at first. Ed only stiffened slightly, relaxing soon thereafter. True to his word, he took his time, making sure that he caused no more pain than was inevitable. By the time he lifted Ed up, the younger man was aroused once again, and helped to position him.

It felt…indescribable. Roy used self-possession he had not known himself to have, just to keep from moving too quickly. Ed groaned as he sank down lower and lower, resting his forehead on Roy's shoulder. Roy stroked Ed's hair, murmuring comfort. Soon, Ed relaxed, and shifted his hips experimentally. Roy moaned, gripping his lover's hips. If this went too quickly, he would never forgive himself. Ed began attempting to move again, letting out a whine of disappointment at Roy's limiting grip.

"Please," his voice escaped his lips as a desperate whisper, "Please, Roy, I need you,"

And you said I was evil? Roy thought, letting up on his grip. Ed's hips moved in slow, rolling circles, and it was all Roy could do to hold him, and try not to force the pace to quicken. He knew that it could not last much longer, but he wanted it to, so very much that he almost could not stand it. Inevitably, Ed began to rise and fall faster, and Roy felt things spiraling dangerously out of control. He could no longer tell whose moans filled his ears, who it was saying that they must move faster, that they needed more. Roy wasn't sure if it was really him, or if it was Ed that made him fall over, but he somehow ended up on his back.

Ed let out a yell, almost a scream, and Roy stopped breathing. It was so unbelievably excruciating, so intoxicating to watch the way Ed almost seemed to glow, as if he were on fire, only for him, that he felt as if he were dying. He found his end just as Ed fell forward onto his chest. "I love you," he breathed into Ed's hair as it all became too much.

"I love you, Roy," Ed answered, sounding utterly exhausted. He was falling asleep. After a few minutes, Roy managed to roll them to the side. Once he'd cleaned them up, he pulled the covers over the both of them.

"Sleep well, Edward," he whispered, watching the rise and fall of Ed's chest. He was truly beautiful.

* * *

The next morning…10:49 a.m.

"You didn't have to carry me," Ed grumbled.

Roy sniggered. "Edward, you would not have been able to make it up all the way here. Even if you've taken painkillers, I know you're hurting." The unspoken apology was in his voice, and it annoyed Ed to no end. He took a swing at Roy.

"Damn you, Roy, I know you're sorry I'm sore. But you know that I wasn't complaining at the time, so just damned well drop it." Roy held up his hands defensively and said no more as Ed unlocked the door to his apartment. The shades were still drawn, which was unusual. Al was usually up at the crack of dawn, and he liked tons of natural light. Ed walked into the living room and took off his shoes, listening to Roy do the same behind him.

The corner past the short entrance hall was where the light switch was located, so Ed reached out his left hand to turn on the lights. The incandescent fixture overhead flickered into life, revealing the room. Wait a minute…

"Something's wrong with this picture, Ed." Roy's voice seemed somewhat amused, but there was nothing funny about what Ed saw.

Near the couch, there was a rather large pile of clothing, only half of which he recognized as belonging to his brother. One of the most recognizable items was a military jacket, the gold-striped shoulder boards revealing the rank of First Lieutenant. Ed's eyes traveled to the large lump in a blanket on the couch, which had two heads. "Oh, God," he said softly, "I think I feel a little sick."

Poking out of the top of the blanket were two heads. The two-headed monster moved, one of the heads turning toward them. Long blond hair was shoved out of the head's light brown eyes by a small hand, which immediately gave a sarcastic salute. "Sirs. Good morning." Ed looked at Roy, who looked as if he were going to burst out laughing any moment. Riza sat up, covering herself discreetly with the blanket. "Lieutenant Colonel, your brother is a piece of work."

"Um…" Ed said, shaking his head, "…I really don't want to know what you mean. Roy, let's go to the kitchen. I have a sudden need for coffee."

At that, both Roy and Riza burst out laughing, causing Al to stir. Ed bolted into the kitchen.

* * *

Roy stood in the doorway to the kitchen, listening to Ed making coffee, and watching as Al sat up. The young man was only slightly bashful, which seemed to be a good thing as he pushed a stray fall of hair behind Riza's ear. She smiled crookedly at Al, and reached down, rooting through the clothes on the floor. Instead of retrieving her uniform, her hands brought up Al's shirt from the day before. Roy went into the kitchen to comfort Edward. He supposed that it was not every day that one realized his younger brother was less innocent than he seemed. However blind to it Ed might have been, Roy had seen the looks Al had given Riza over the past year and a half, even if Riza herself had not. Alphonse's birthday party had only been a confirmation of his theory. And last night was the result.

The only issue he might have difficulty proceeding on was how he was going to break the news to Ed that he'd sort of set the situation up…but that was an argument for another day.

The End.

Or _is_ it?

* * *

**A/N: **A note on canon and accuracy: I'm not exactly sure what it was that Trisha Elric died of. Though I've seen the Anime, I have only gotten through 1 volume of the Manga, so if there's any detail that I've missed on that account, please forgive me. For the purposes of this story, Trisha died of cancer. Also, where age is concerned, I'm basing age off of Edward, who is 20. All other ages should be adjusted accordingly in your minds, to avoid that increasingly pesky confusion over child pron.

**R E V I E W.**


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